The XO-Files: Buffy Edition
by Barefoot XO
Summary: A collection of Buffy crossover plot starters that I am too busy to work on. They're coming at me from all directions and I'm hoping someone will take them off my hands, if you want to do it please review and tell me which one you'd like. Currently they're mostly Xander-centered.
1. The Gate-Crashers (BTVS & Stargate SG-1)

_**The Gate-Crashers... (BtVS/Stargate SG-1)**_

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Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Stargate SG-1. They belong to Joss Whedon and MGM respectively. I also don't own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Wizard of Oz, Star Trek, Star Wars, Die Hard or Looney Tunes. They belong to Roald Dahl, Lyman F. Baum, Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, John McTiernan and Warner Brothers respectively.

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**Summary:** The SGC livens up an awful lot when the Stargate mysteriously activates and disgorges a Watcher, two Slayers and the Key to the Universe, all sitting in a U.S. Army Jeep and armed to the teeth. George Hammond really did not need this sort of crap just thirty-six days before his retirement kicked in…

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_Kenya; Serengeti Plain; Dimension 241144518  
December 31st 2003_

Xander growled low in his throat as he twisted the wheel of his jeep, trying desperately to stay ahead of the horde of Oompa Loompa demons that pursued him and his small slayer team.

It had seemed like such a good idea when Giles had suggested that Xander negotiate a treaty with the Oompa Loompas. They certainly sounded harmless enough. How the heck was Xander to know that the smell of the chocolate bar in his pocket would send the normally peaceful demons into a killing frenzy?

The offending chocolate bar had been left behind, but still the horde pursued, relentless in their need to kill the 'chocolate thieves'. Rona and Vi were hanging onto the back of the jeep as they knocked back their pursuers.

Vi was using an axe to sweep the short little monsters off of the jeep, even as they jumped aboard. Rona had a hold of Xander's prize shotgun, confiscated by Xander from a local poacher, and was using it to solve the team's problems in a more permanent fashion. Rona had apparently decided that any further negotiations were a waste of time. Xander found that he couldn't really blame her. He was gonna beat Giles over the head with Vi's axe for not mentioning the chocolate thing… Assuming they survived long enough to see Giles again, that is.

At Xander's side was the final member of their merry band of fugitives from Oompa Loompa justice, Dawn Summers. The girl had lost interest in Italy rather quickly and had wanted to go somewhere she could get her hands dirty. She was likely regretting that decision right about now.

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_Colorado; Under NORAD; Dimension 311820518  
July 1st 1997_

George Hammond was looking forward to his retirement. This posting he was currently working, Stargate Command, was the ultimate in boring jobs. He and his people were to guard some sort of ancient archaeological find that nobody even knew existed. Hammond himself wasn't even briefed on why the darn thing was important.

All Hammond knew for sure is that he had been haemorrhaging personnel for months now. Nobody wanted to work at this posting with him and he honestly couldn't blame them. As close to retirement as he was, Hammond didn't want to rock the boat by requesting a transfer. It was far better to put up with the bother for another few weeks then to risk his pension. He did understand, though, that the younger personnel working the security details were action-oriented and wanted to get the hell out of here as fast they could.

Hammond sighed. Gonzalez wanted a transfer. Hammond carefully signed the form and then checked his calendar. Just thirty-six days until retirement…

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_Kenya; Serengeti Plain; Dimension 241144518  
December 31st 2003_

They were running out of Serengeti fast and the Oompa Loompas were still going strong. Xander made a silent note to tell Giles how amazing the speed and endurance of the average Oompa Loompa must be to manage to keep pace with his jeep, gunning the engine as he was… After he'd beaten the hell out of Giles for the chocolate thing. That was still his priority for when he next saw Giles.

Xander gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to escape this situation with his life and the lives of his three companions intact. Dying at the hands of the munchkin horde was just too embarrassing a way to die, and with Xander's dating history, that was saying something.

Finally, as the Oompa Loompas rocked against the jeep again and Rona and Vi battered them away, an idea came to him. "Rona, I don't suppose you brought any grenades, did you?"

Rona fired a blast of the shotgun and then paused to reload rapidly. "You told me not to, remember boss? This is a peacekeeping mission, Ro', not a combat mission. That's what you said boss…"

Xander growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing with unholy green light. "I know exactly what I said slayer. Are you telling me that you actually obeyed my orders for once?"

Rona smirked innocently as she blasted another Oompa off the back of their jeep. "I brought them boss. You want me to use them now?"

Xander shook his head and then began to respond verbally once he realised that there was no way for Rona to understand the movement when she had her back to him. "No, Ro', and this time you're gonna listen to me. Unless you packed enough grenades to level the whole country, they'll only be good for a brief distraction. Keep them ready, but don't actually use them until I give you the word."

Xander then leaned over to Dawn in the front seat, even as he tried to direct the jeep into a safe direction. Safe directions were getting very scarce. "Dawnie, are you able to use your key-ness the way that Willow was speculating you could last week?"

Dawn's jaw dropped as she regarded Xander and realised he was serious. "Xander, using that ability will strip me of my powers permanently. Wherever we landed, we'd be stuck. And need I remind you that we'd probably wind out in another dimension when you consider the nature of my powers?"

Xander shrugged expressively. "I've got no particular hankering to die at the hands of the munchkin horde, Dawnie. I don't see a whole lot of options right now. You got something better, you speak it right now."

Dawn frowned at the grim reality Xander presented. She knew full well that he was right. Using her key abilities was a chance for survival. Staying where they were was suicide. "You realise it'll take time to get our destination clear in my head."

Xander shook his head. "Don't worry about where we're going, Dawn. Just focus on it being anywhere but here. I don't give a damn if wind out in the land of Oz at the moment."

The Key to the Universe grinned impishly and concentrated on opening the portal that would take them anywhere but here. "There's no place like home… there's no place like home…"

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_Colorado; Under NORAD; Dimension 311820518  
July 1st 1997_

Sergeant Marina Ryan of the USAF looked up from the poker game that she and her colleagues were playing. The ring they were guarding was moving. As it began to spin in earnest the large sheet flew off and Ryan and her colleagues started to grab weapons.

Ryan watched as the chevrons began locking, even as Freddie Nichols slammed his fist into the alarm. One chevron locked… Two chevrons locked… Three chevrons locked… Four chevrons locked… Five chevrons locked… Six chevrons locked… Seven chevrons locked… Eight chevrons locked… Nine chevrons locked… It was not until weeks later that the SGC would realise that this was totally unprecedented in the history of the gate.

Suddenly electrical pulses began firing randomly off of the gate and all of the guards began to scatter, running from the room until it was empty. The pulses continued for a few moments, shattering the glass to the observation area, slagging the open weapons locker and even the door controls. It was a good thing that the guards had evacuated or there might have been major injuries caused.

Finally the pulses stopped and a green wave of seeming liquid pulsed several feet out of the gate before being sucked back in to form a distinct portal. Seconds later, the party started with a crash…

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_Kenya; Serengeti Plain; Dimension 241144518  
__December 31st 2003_

Dawn's half-closed eyes snapped open as she felt the power she had coalescing into a portal fifty metres away. "It's forming, fifty metres dead ahead."

Xander never took his eyes off of the forming portal as he gunned the engine with everything he still had. "We need some cover, Ro'. The word is given."

Rona grinned and tossed a pair of grenades into Vi's lap before pulling the pin on the remaining two. Vi and Rona flung the grenades hard into the ranks of the pursuing Oompas, taking a perverse pleasure in the explosions.

The Oompa Loompa horde was frightened by the explosions of heat and shrapnel that Rona had rained down on their heads and fell back to regroup. Xander had been right. With the way the little buggers were regrouping, they would have been closing again in minutes and all the grenades were gone now.

Luckily, the grenades did offer enough of a respite that the band of four would be able to exit the area without any pursuers. Xander's grin became positively feral. "Fasten your seatbelts kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

Rona and Vi had barely managed to strap in before Xander's jeep slammed right through Dawn's portal and left their reality behind.

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_Colorado; Under NORAD; Dimension 311820518  
July 1st 1997_

George Hammond jumped up from his desk in shock as he heard an alarm blaring away. An emergency? At Stargate command? Ridiculous, and yet these were trained military personnel. No matter how disgruntled they were, they wouldn't trigger a false alarm just to liven things up.

George grabbed his administrative aide, Walter Harriman and walked rapidly through the corridors, following Major Charles Kawalsky's special ops team down to the gate room. Kawalsky's team was the only remaining special ops team assigned to Stargate Command.

Several floors of descent later and the General encountered the frightened gate guards. "Report Sergeant," he snapped at the female Sergeant that was in the group.

The woman snapped to attention automatically and began her recitation. "Sir, the artefact somehow activated and started throwing electrical pulses everywhere. We were forced to evacuate the gate room for safety, Sir."

Hammond nodded and entered the glass-strewn observation room just in time to see an old U.S. Army Jeep with four passengers come barrelling into the gate room and hit the wall opposite the gate.

Hammond sighed in relief that no guards had remained behind or they would have all been pancakes.

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_Colorado; Under NORAD; Dimension 311820518  
July 1st 1997_

As they came out of the portal at the same speed they had entered, Xander had only a second or two apply the brakes before they crashed into a concrete wall.

Leaning back with a groan, Xander took quick stock of his group. Dawn had a nasty bump on her head from somewhere or other and the slayers were more or less unharmed. Their slayer constitutions served them very well. Xander knew from the tickling sensation on his scalp that he had a head wound, though he was pretty sure it was just a minor scalp laceration rather then anything life threatening.

It took Xander a few minutes to register that dozens of armed soldiers were surrounding them and were not looking very friendly.

Xander glanced at Dawn and offered a sardonic grin. "I don't think we're in Kenya anymore, Dawnie."

The girl match him grin for grin. "You better not be implying I'm a dog, Harris, or you're going to wish you were back in Kenya."

Xander's grin became a smirk. "I would never think of such a thing, Dawn-meister."

Xander turned his smile on the General in the observation platform and tried desperately to turn on the charm. "We come in peace?" Nothing. "Live long and prosper?" Nothing. "May the Force be with you?" Still nothing. "Yippe ki-yay, M-…"

"Xander!" Dawn's face reddened as she cut off his rather absurd fourth attempt at getting a reaction out of the General.

Xander sighed. This was a tough room. Then it came to him. "I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque."

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Bonus points for those who can guess where the names for OC characters Marina Ryan and Freddie Nichols came from... ;)

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	2. Die Hard, Live Harder (BTVS & Die Hard)

_**Die Hard, Live Harder... (BtVS/Die Hard)**_

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Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Die Hard. They belong to Joss Whedon and John McTiernan respectively.

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When John McClane shows up at the Nakatomi Hallowe'en party, he quickly finds himself faced with a building crawling with terrorists and their demonic allies. His only backup? A professional construction worker who dressed as a pirate and whose weapons are way too authentic...

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"Hey Holly…"

Holly McClane, née Gennaro, shuddered at the unpleasant voice of Harry Ellis sounded softly behind her. She had hoped the bearded lech had finally gotten a clue that she wasn't interested. She might be on the outs with John at the moment, but she had high hopes for salvaging their currently shaky marriage. She certainly wasn't interested in throwing it away in a one-night-stand with a man who probably wouldn't remember her name the next day…

"What about dinner tonight, huh?"

Holly allowed a sigh of frustration to escape her. "Harry, it's Hallowe'en. Costumes, parties, trick-or-treating, haunted houses. Are any of these things ringing a bell with you…?"

Harry grinned ingratiatingly. There was just no stopping the jerk. "Actually I was thinking of soft couch, some spooky horror flicks, hot chocolate and a roaring fireplace."

"Oh really? I was thinking of toilet-papering your yard and egging your car, but I guess I'm just an old fashioned Hallowe'en purist."

Holly let loose a tight grin as Ellis spun about to see the large and intimidating Xander Harris, dressed in full pirate regalia, right down to his cutlass and flintlocks. For heaven's sake but the guy was a fan of Hallowe'en. His weapons even looked real! Xander had been invited to the Nakatomi Corporation's Hallowe'en Party because White Knight Construction was responsible for the building they were all in. It wasn't finished, but as usual, Xander Harris' fine work was already showing.

Ellis attempted an ingratiating, false smile when faced with Harris. Ellis had a big ol' hate on for Harris most days. The kid seemed to take it as his self-appointed role to keep Ellis from harassing the ladies that truly weren't interested. "I was just arranging a little conference with Ms. Gennaro, here, Harris. I was hoping we could get together tonight…"

Xander's eye widened in false surprise. "Really, Ellis? Well then I hope your conference goes well. I hear her husband is real interested in meeting her beloved colleagues in a casual environment."

Ellis paled briefly at the mention of Holly's husband. "Yeah, well, I hadn't realised her husband was coming. Shouldn't allow work to interfere with her personal life, after all. Maybe we'll schedule that meeting for after your husband leaves. Ummm… Bye."

Holly giggled uncontrollably as Ellis sputtered incoherently and fled from the intimidating construction worker. Xander was something of chauvinist, but he displayed it in a fairly tolerable fashion compared to most men. He simply believed that women should be protected and did his best to do so. It didn't seem to matter much to him if the woman was actually plenty capable of taking care of herself. "Thanks for the rescue, Xander. Nice costume, by the way."

Xander grinned maniacally. "Well, a pirate is about the only costume that works with the patch, you know? I meant what I said by the way…"

Holly simply looked at him in confusion.

"Your husband. He is coming. The driver from the service… Argyle, I think… He called saying that he's enroute with Mr. McClane."

Holly grinned broadly at the revelation. "Thanks for the heads up, Xand. Now you get back to the party and enjoy. I'm sure Ellis will leave me alone until he manages to stop quivering like a bowl of jello."

Xander grinned and bowed rakishly, doffing his elaborate hat. "I live to serve, Milady." And with that he returned to the party…

* * *

"Fucking California."

John McClane was not having a particularly good time. First there had been the long flight from New York to California. Given that he was afraid of flying, that had been an exercise in sheer hell. Second had been a far to probing and accurate conversation with Argyle about his marriage. Little punk needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. Then he finds out that Holly is no longer using his name. And now some Californian comes up and kisses him? If the guy had stuck around John would have flattened him.

"You'll have to forgive Edward. He comes from a part of the world where kissing a person on cheek is a perfectly appropriate form of greeting for someone you've never met. We're trying to explain to him that it freaks people out a bit in these parts, but its difficult breaking into a new culture, y'know?"

John turned to meet the gaze of a tall pirate. "You gotta be kidding me? Aren't you a little old for a pirate costume, kid?"

The large man shrugged and smiled good-naturedly. "You're never too old for Hallowe'en, man. You John McClane?"

McClane frowned but took the proffered hand. "Yeah. And you are?"

The pirate grinned. "Alexander Harris, of White Knight Construction. My people are responsible for putting this pretty piece of architecture together. I'm friends with Holly. She asked me to keep an eye out for you and steer you into her office so you to could meet up easier."

John was still feeling a little put off. "And she didn't do this herself because…"

Xander's easy smile never wavered. "She's busy getting her work done. Her job is pretty intensive, y'know. Besides, I've always been good at seeing things other people miss and so I volunteered to help her out."

John nodded. "So you and Holly are good friends, huh?"

The construction worker's eyes rolled in a long-suffering fashion. "Please. Do you really think if I was having an affair with your wife that I would have any desire to meet you? I'd have to the I.Q. of avocado. Besides, what you would do to me for that would pale in comparison to what my girlfriend would do to me if she ever caught me straying. Trust me man, I made that bonehead move once with a previous girlfriend and I'm still regretting it today."

John let it go. He had to admit that Holly would have to be a total fool of cheat on him and then send her lover to meet him.

Xander narrowed his eye at John. "Keep this in mind, McClane. Holly is my friend, and she has been completely faithful to you. You hurt her tonight and I'll be beating you to death with a shovel before I use it to bury you."

McClane grinned at that comment. "You do know I'm a cop, don't you?"

Harris' maniacal grin didn't waver. "You do know I don't give a damn, don't you?"

John nodded in satisfaction. "You'll do…"

Harry Ellis was calmly clipping his nails and waiting for Holly to show up in her office. He wanted her and that pirate punk Harris was not enough to put him off.

"Dammit, Ellis. Can't you take a hint?"

Ellis immediately winced as he saw that instead of Holly he was going to get treated to a duet of Harris and another man who could only be Holly's husband. "Hey, Harris. I was just here to uh… uh…"

The pirate-costumed man glared in irritation. "Just what Ellis? Clipping your nails? This is not a beauty salon, Dillweed, so why don't you take a hint and blow, huh? Or do I need to ask Faith to come visit you at work sometime."

Ellis' pale complexion went positively milky in consistency. Shiver-Me-Timbers Harris was scary enough, Break-My-Bones Lehane scared the living hell out of him. Ellis had made the dumb move of hitting on the woman when she had escorted Xander to a previous get-together and he felt pain in his knee when the weather was cold. "Ummm… I'll just be elsewhere if anyone needs me."

Xander exchanged a smirk with McClane. "You'll have to excuse Ellis. He needs to change his pants now."

John shook his head in mild admiration. "Who is this Faith you mentioned and what did she do to provoke a reaction like that?"

Xander's grin took on a feral quality. "My girlfriend. Ellis made the mistake of being a touch forward in his advances with her. Suffice it to say the incident ended with Ellis in a knee-brace for a month. Faith then informed him that if he ever touched a woman without permission again she would break something off that he would sorely miss."

John nearly split a gut laughing at that comment.

"Hello, John."

John managed a shaky smile for his wife. "Hi Holly."

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Hope you liked...

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

Jasper


	3. Boldly Going (BtVS & Star Trek)

**Boldly Going... (BtVS/Star Trek)**

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Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Star Trek. They belong to Joss Whedon and Gene Roddenberry respectively. The first four lines of this fic are an excerpt from the Star Trek: Voyager episode, The Q and the Grey. I also don't own Batman. He belongs to DC Comics.

An ascended Cordelia bargains with Q… She will bear his child, thus preventing him from having to have it with his ex-wife, if he will save her doomed friends from their deaths. This group includes Angel, Xander Harris, Charles Gunn and Winifred Burkle. They are sent by Q into the future…

Warning: The following fic has mentions of rape and implies that one of the characters is a past victim of rape. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don't read further...

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_Upper Plains  
Time has no meaning..._

"I know that you're probably asking yourself, 'Why would a brilliant, handsome, dashingly omnipotent being like Q want to mate with a scrawny little bipedal specimen like me?'"

"Let me guess: no one else in the universe will have you!"

"Nonsense! I could have chosen a Klingon Targ; a Romulan empress; a Cyrillian microbe…"

"Really? I beat out a single-celled organism? How flattering!" The sarcasm in the higher being's voice rang out coldly.

Q sighed in frustration. Unlike so many of her former species, Cordelia Chase had great power at her disposal now. She was heavily restricted by the dictates of her superiors in the Powers that Be, but she was certainly capable of defending herself from Q's advances. "What will it take to convince you to become my bride? I can give you the universe, Cordelia."

Cordy opened her mouth to reject the proposal once more, but then she hesitated. So many of her friends had met with deaths long before their times. First had been Fred, overcome by Illyria. Next to go had been Gunn, dying of his wounds at the beginning of the battle against the massive demon army in L.A. Third had been Xander, saving a slayer in Africa from some demonic poachers. Last had been Angel, sacrificing his life to save Buffy of all people. Cordy still cringed to think of it.

She thought for a long moment before she spoke carefully. "I'll go along with you on this on one condition, Q. I want you to go back to the moment of death for Fred, Wesley, Gunn, Xander and Angel and to save them. That's my price."

Q frowned at the demand. It would be oh so easy to go back to his ex-wife, but he so preferred that it be Cordelia who was to bear his child. "I cannot leave them alive in their own times, Cordelia. Whilst I am more powerful then any of your superiors, they do have the cumulative power to interfere. They will not like me interfering with Earth's history by leaving those five alive to influence it."

Cordy just smirked in return. "Then bring them forward in time, Q. I just want them to get a decent chance to live their lives."

Q grinned. "Done!"

Q is a mischievous being at heart, and so it shouldn't have come as any shock to Cordy that he scattered her friends to the solar winds, landing them on different planets at various different points in time…

* * *

_November 6th 2267  
Triskelion_

Angel had been a thrall on Triskelion for a month when the three new thralls came.

Angel considered himself a great warrior, at least by human standards, so he had to say that it was embarrassing that he had been taken down so easily. That he was outnumbered ten to one made the experience a somewhat less bitter pill to swallow.

He tugged at the hated collar that compelled his participation in this blood sport. He supposed he should be grateful. This experience was so frustrating that he was certain that a moment of true happiness would be impossible for him to experience. On the other hand, Angelus would have enjoyed this experience a heck of a lot more.

Still, the three new thralls were interesting. The leader of the three was blond with a golden shirt. His somewhat arrogant manner tickled Angel's memories or Spike a bit, but the man in question seemed far more… potent… then Spike ever was. The blond was called James Kirk. He claimed to be the Captain of a Starship. The very notion revived Angel's curiosity in when and where he was.

The second new thrall was a brunet, also wearing a gold shirt. The youthful lad was a hothead who often allowed his mouth to write checks his body couldn't cash. Angel couldn't help but wonder if Xander had managed to have an illegitimate child with a Russian woman prior to his death, so strongly did the lad resemble Xander in attitude. The boy's name was Pavel Chekov.

The last new thrall was a woman. She resembled Kendra faintly in looks, but her manner more closely resembled that of Tara Maclay, whom Angel had only met briefly. She was sweet and soft-spoken, a condition that masked a razor-sharp intellect. Her name was Nyota Uhura.

Angel leaned back as he waited for the next match to begin. If he new his humans, he suspected things were about to get interesting…

* * *

_December 29th 2352  
Turkana IV_

The rape gang was getting closer. Life on Turkana IV was not an easy thing, especially for a young woman with next to no combat skills. Tasha silently vowed that if she ever got off the damn planet alive she was going to get training so that she would never be helpless again.

Looking down in the alley in which she was concealed, Tasha was shocked to find a small cat that had somehow managed to survive in the terrifying underbelly of the godforsaken planet. "You poor darling. How did you get here?"

"We just looked around till we found you, Love…"

Tasha let go of the cat and silently urged it to escape, even as she turned to face the rape gang who stood behind her, leering grotesquely. "No…" The word was uttered softly, with a hopeless and helpless quality that Tasha despised. The gangs had caught her only once before this and once had been far more then enough as far as the fifteen-year-old girl was concerned.

The leader of the gang continued to leer at her, apparently unconcerned with her potential consent. No surprise there. "I'm afraid we won't be giving you a choice, Love."

"Certainly not. She's not even old enough to give consent, hotshot. So why don't you and your band of idiots just move along peaceful like."

Tasha and the gang froze as the heard a weapon cocking and watched a menacing figure step out of the shadows. Tasha had never seen a rifle like the man had before, but she'd lay money that it was still effective for all that it was unique. The gang themselves were only armed with knives. The stranger's eye patch added to the threatening aura of the man.

The rape gang was initially thrown by the man's calm approach, but they quickly regain confidence when they noted that he was alone. The leader spoke again. "There are six of us and only one of you. So either join in or piss off."

The man in the patch grinned in a positively maniacal manner. "Tell me something pal. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

The gang was obviously tired of talking and so they charged her rather frightening-looking saviour. The man simply shrugged and fired, killing one of the band instantly. If there was one thing Xander had picked up in Africa, it was that sometimes you had to kill humans too. Some humans were far worse then demons could ever hope to be.

As the second gang-member dropped from the shotgun round, Xander started using the rifle as a quarterstaff, slamming it into the rapidly oncoming band of creeps.

Xander had always been a punching bag for vampires and demons alike. Unluckily for the ungrateful living, Xander's fighting skills showed much better when being used on beings that approximated his own size and strength. The idiots didn't stand a chance.

Once the surviving gang-bangers were groaning in the dirt, Xander turned to the frightened girl who was cringing in the alley's deepest corner. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. I'm Xander."

For a long moment Tasha stared into the open face of the man who had saved her. It took her a moment, but she managed to look past the eye patch and the military jacket. This was a man that was more used to laughing then snarling. Something about him immediately set her at ease. She reached her hand out to grasp the one he offered. "I'm Tasha…"

Xander's face twisted into a broad smile. "Come on, Tasha. Let's see if we can find a way to more civilised parts. By the way… You wouldn't happen to know where in hell we are, would you?"

* * *

_July 11th 2365  
Starbase 173_

"Let me put it this way. Would you permit the computer of the Enterprise to refuse a refit?" The cold, if perhaps accurate, statement of Commander Bruce Maddox echoed between the various participants.

Captain Picard's forehead puckered slightly as he tried to come up with a rebuttal. Lt. Commander Data merely appeared unmoved by the attack on his… humanity. In the end it was Captain Phillipa Louvois whose decision mattered in this. "He makes a good point, Captain." The leading statement seemed to make Picard flinch inside.

"I disagree, Ma'am." The smooth voice of Charles Gunn, a civilian who had mysteriously appeared on the station a month ago, cut deeply into the uncomfortable silence.

It was perhaps lucky for Gunn that the Wolfram and Hart legal upgrade was self-updating through time. The end result allowed Gunn to transition far easier then Angel or Xander had.

Louvois turned to the only other lawyer currently assigned to Starbase 173. "Your opinion, Counselor?"

Gunn straightened, instinctively shifting into his lawyer voice. "If I might put a question to you, Commander Maddox?"

Maddox seemed unbothered by the scrutiny of the larger Gunn. He was confident in his position. "Of course."

Gunn smiled almost condescendingly. "Tell me Commander, would you allow the Enterprise computer to attend Starfleet Academy as a student?"

Maddox was thrown by the question, unsure of where it was going. "No, of course not, but…"

"What about Mr. Data's cat. Spot, I believe it is called. Would Spot be permitted a place at the Academy?"

"No, the Academy only accepts sentient beings. A cat simply doesn't…"

"Qualify. Yes, I know that Commander." Gunn turned a smirk on Louvois. "I would contend, Captain, that the mere fact that Data was allowed to attend Starfleet Academy as a regular student, suggests an implicit declaration by their governing body that Mr. Data is a sentient. Starfleet does not allow a ship's computer or a household pet to attend for obvious reasons. Spot the cat is a living being, so it is not life that is required. The computer is perfectly knowledgeable, and so it cannot be brains that qualify. Mr. Maddox said it himself, Ma'am. Only sentient beings are permitted to attend."

Louvois grinned at Gunn. "So he did, Counselor. Well argued." She turned to Maddox. "I believe Mr. Gunn's statement to be accurate, Mr. Maddox. Unless you have a way of proving that Starfleet is in the habit of allowing non-sentients to attend the academy at all, I would suggest to you that the ruling has already been made in Mr. Data's favour and that he has every right to refuse you."

It was then that Gunn noted the faintest hint of expression on Data's face. Satisfaction.

* * *

_February 1st 2367  
Terlina III_

"Noonien, you must let him return. He's already stated that there is a medical emergency. We can't simply let some poor child die just to satisfy your vanity."

Dr. Noonien Soong flashed a hurt look at the beautiful and brilliant young woman who had appeared to him in a spectacular flash of light just a month ago. "Winifred, I'm dying. You know this. If my work is not finished soon, then I might never be able to finish it."

Fred sighed. "I known that, Noonien, but the life of a child is at stake here. If it becomes necessary, I can complete the work on your behalf. For heaven's sake, Noonien. You know that I am qualified to do the job if it comes to that. The work would still be yours. Please, Noonien. Allow Data to do what he has to. I am sure he will return soon."

Noonien sighed, seeming to come to a decision, when another android walked into the room. "Impossible… Lore?"

Fred frowned as she noted Data's faint hint of revulsion. This was not going to end well.

* * *

Good luck, folks.

Note: If anyone decides to pursue a Xander/Tasha 'ship in this fic, please at least wait until she's eighteen (at the bare minimum). That's all I ask.

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	4. Who's the Dummy Now? (BtVS & MASH)

_**Who's the Dummy Now...? (BtVS/MASH)**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or MASH. They belong to Joss Whedon and Larry Gelbart respectively. There are also specific spoiler for the episode War of Nerves. The song Suicide is Painless (upon which the song parody is based) belongs to Johnny Mandel.

Ever wonder what Sid was like before he became a dummy? Ever wonder what that Korean slayer was like? Ever wonder what its like to be a slayer caught in a human war zone? If so, all of your questions will soon be answered.

* * *

_Through early morning fog I see  
Visions of my destiny  
And those that fought the dark 'fore me  
I'm humbled by their bravery_

_One girl in all the world_  
_Her destiny unfurled_  
_A chosen one who is called to defend the weak_

_See, I'm the one, picked by fate_  
_To stem the tide of the dark and hate_  
_I block the way to Satan's gate_  
_With sword and spear and staff and stake_

_One girl in all the world_  
_Her destiny unfurled_  
_A chosen one who is called to defend the weak_

_The monsters here are hard to slay_  
_I've gotta kill them anyway_  
_As bombs and bullets fall like rain_  
_Hurting both slayer and slain_

_One girl in all the world_  
_Her destiny unfurled_  
_A chosen one who is called to defend the weak_

_My sword will pierce thick demon skins_  
_And that is when the fun begins_  
_But such does not seal up the __win  
For who prevails amongst such sin?_

_One girl in all the world_  
_Her destiny unfurled_  
_A chosen one who is called to defend the weak_

_A brave __man came to rescue me  
He had my back in each melee  
And after that he talked with me  
He didn't watch, oh no, not he!_

_One girl in all the world_  
_Her destiny unfurled_  
_A chosen one who is called to defend the weak_

* * *

**_Korea, the Front Lines, Somewhere near Uijeongbu  
December 22nd 1951_**

The explosion of a mortar near their foxhole had both Sid and Tom dropping to the ground hard as fragments scattered about. Sid winced as he felt blood welling at his scalp and then fought back an even deeper wince when he saw Tom, laid out on the ground, his legs mangled pretty bad by shrapnel.

Seeing his patient in such bad shape, Sid reached into the medical bag that he had brought with him and began to do first aid. Medical school had been a long time ago and Sid was not the type to typically treat wounded. He was a psychiatrist for God's sake. He healed the mind, not the body. Still, if he couldn't stabilize the boy then the mind would no longer be an issue. And so Sidney sat in the foxhole, bleeding from his forehead, trying desperately to remember standard first aid whist bullets flew overhead, distracting his usually excellent memory.

It took some time, but Sidney finally was satisfied that Tom was going to make it, assuming they got him to a MASH fairly quickly. So Sidney leaned down to talk to his patient, attempting to sooth the already frightened young man. "I have to leave for a moment to find another medic Tom."

The blond kid offered a pleading look. "Please, Doc. Don't leave me here."

Sidney shook his head. "I've got to, Tom. You need more help then I can give you right now. I'll be back very soon. I promise."

Sidney was in such a rush to save the boy's life that he failed to note the angry and betrayed look that crossed the youth's face.

Sidney cursed softly as he found the mangled body of the former unit medic, Albert Wilder, and steeled himself to just snatch the man's intact medical bag and leave the corpse to lie there. It was hard for a doctor to live with, but the war had branded one truth into him for all time. Help the living first.

Bobbing and weaving between foxholes, Sid took a circuitous rout back to Tom in the foxhole. It was on that long route that he came across a dead British soldier. Normally Sid might have continued on, but the manner of death was both strange and horrifying. The poor sap had terrible lacerations across his body that did not look like they were caused by shrapnel.

And that was when he saw a scene that would haunt his nightmares for years to come. A monstrous-looking human was standing over a badly wounded Korean girl, blood smearing the maddened-looking soldier's face. "Die Slayer!"

Sheer instinct had Sidney slamming the salvaged medical bag hard across the man's head. The psychotic-seeming soldier turned to Freedman, glaring mockingly. Did you actually think that I would be hurt by that, Blood Bag? That would have barely even affected me when I was alive."

The psychiatrist froze in confusion. The man was implying he was already dead? Ridiculous. The man was really lost in the woods and judging by the mess that was the deceased British soldier, the man was likely beyond redemption. Sidney opened his mouth to speak but did not. There was really nothing to be said.

The mad soldier's face became grotesque as he coiled himself to leap at Sidney. Unfortunately for the man in question, it was only then that he felt a piercing sensation occur in his chest. The vampire glared at the young slayer in mute protest before he exploded into ash. He had taken his eyes off the prize and had paid the price for his arrogance.

Sidney stood there for a long moment trying to collect his thoughts. The man had just burst into ash when the girl had killed him by putting a stake through his chest. Absurd. And yet that was the reality of the situation.

It took a moment, but Sidney finally managed to pull himself together and move to help the girl. "Do you speak English?"

The girl nodded somewhat incoherently. She was bleeding pretty heavily from the neck. It was a miracle she'd been able to kill that… whatever it was.

Sidney grabbed the salvaged medical bag from where it had fallen after hitting the monster and began patching the girl's wounds. "I'm Sid. What's your name?"

The girl's eyes gained a little more focus as she apparently tried to recall the answer to the question. "Kim Li."

As he continued to patch her wounds, Sid continued speaking to keep the girl conscious. "Do you know who that was?"

The girl's expression morphed into hatred. "He was a vampire, you dummy! How could you not know?"

Sid snorted softly at the idea of any doctor being called a dummy. He thought about her assertion and decided to put it out of his mind for the moment. First he had to stabilise Kim. Then he had to get her and Tom out of this nightmare. After that maybe he could think about impossible things like vampires. "Maybe I am a dummy, Sweetie. Time will tell."

* * *

Good luck, folks.

Note: Do not use a Sidney/Kim 'ship. Just don't. As far as I'm concerned those implications were a result od Sid being mixed up in the head from too many years as a dummy.

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	5. The Witches' White Light (BtVS & Charm)

_**The Witches' White Light... (BtVS/Charmed)**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Charmed. They belong to Joss Whedon and Constance M. Burge respectively.

When Angel's sucker punch puts Buffy's white knight permanently out of commission, a higher being decides that Xander can still be useful on the hellmouth and sends him back as a different kind of warrior of the light.

* * *

_A Darkened Alley; Sunnydale, California  
March 16th 1999_

"Man, where've you been? You gotta find Buffy – she's going to her place and stocking up on…" Xander was cut off by Angel's fist slamming into his face. All he could do was crumple to the pavement in response to the devastating injury.

As his world faded to black, Xander could hear Angel's last words to him echoing softly. "That guy just bugs me…"

In another time and another place, Angel's blow would have left Xander unconscious with a rather nasty bruise. Unfortunately for the Xander of this reality, the vicious-looking punch Angel had used to maintain his cover proved to be all too effective in killing the mortal that was Xander Harris.

* * *

_The Upper Plains  
March 16th 1999_

The only thing Xander was sure of when he awakened was that it was way too bright. "Anybody get the number of that truck?"

"I'm afraid that what hit you was a vampire, not a truck."

Xander spun to see a slightly built man walking up to him with an air of serenity that eased Xander's mind. "You the guy that patched me up? I mean I'm feeling pretty good for a guy that just had his face rearranged by an overzealous vampire." A cold fury formed in his gut. "And speaking of that vampire…"

The man smiled softly before gently interjecting. "I'm afraid I didn't heal you, Alexander. My name is Leo Wyatt and I'm an Elder."

Something about that niggled at the back of Xander's mind. After a moment or two he simply gave it up for a waste of time. "An Elder what?"

The man grinned as if he was enjoying some secret joke. "The Elders are known by many names. We are the Guardians, the Protectors… some even call us the Powers that Be. Essentially we are the Creator's primary representatives on the side of good."

The cold fury in his gut congealed into a block of ice. "I'm dead, aren't I? That stinking, overdressed, gel-encrusted, broody little…"

The Elder attempted to adopt a stern look but failed rather spectacularly. "Yes. I'm afraid so, Alexander."

The response took the wind out of Xander's sails momentarily. "So… Why am I here if I'm dead? Is this the afterlife?"

Leo shook his head. "No, Alexander. It is not. This is the place of judging. Mortals like yourself who have been touched by the supernatural and remained uncorrupted by it are often offered a choice to become whitelighters. And you are particularly desirable as a whitelighter because you grew up on the active hellmouth."

Xander adopted a look of polite confusion at that statement. "Err… Why exactly is the fact that I grew up on an active hellmouth a good thing as far as my being a whitelighter?"

Leo sighed. "Most whitelighters are unable to weather the dark energies that surround a hellmouth for very long. The hellmouth is saturated with evil and we are creatures of good. It is much like vampires attempting to enter particularly significant religious sites like the Vatican."

The whitelighter candidate nodded sagely. "And the difference when one has been raised on the hellmouth?"

Leo smiled again. "A person who has lived their life on the hellmouth develops a strong resistance to its effects when they become a whitelighter. Unfortunately the hellmouth's corruptive influences makes the pickings very slim there. With the last whitelighter born on a hellmouth being destroyed over a decade ago, we've been waiting anxiously for a new one to work the hellmouth."

"What about Kendra? Wouldn't she have been whitelighter material?"

Leo grinned benignly. "Kendra did not live on the hellmouth, Xander. Besides, the nature of the slayer essence is demonic. This prevents slayers from becoming whitelighters, regardless of how good of a person they might be."

Xander let it go, though part of him wanted to pursue the demonic origins of the slayer. "So I'm being drafted as a whitelighter ten? Whatever a whitelighter is…"

"A whitelighter is a mentor and guide sent by the Elders in order to keep good witches on the right path."

Xander grinned. "So I'm being assigned to Willow? That's great! That means I can…"

Leo shook his head resolutely. "Willow Rosenberg is a practitioner. Witches are born that way. Likewise, Rupert Giles is a practitioner. No, Xander. Assuming that you accept my offer you will not be seeing your friends. You will not be able to see them at all until they have had time to grieve. The only exceptions would be if you were assigned to one of them, since you would be the only whitelighter able to go to the hellmouth. However, as I said, none of them are witches."

Xander growled softly at the idea of not being able to see Willow, or Cordy or the rest. True, he wasn't really popular with them right now but that didn't mean he didn't still love them. "So who are my charges?"

Leo smiled broadly. "So you accept then?"

Xander shrugged. "I don't see any other choice."

Leo frowned at Xander. "You can also simply move on to the afterlife. whitelighters are not drafted. They are good people who deserve their rest but choose to fight the good fight some more."

Xander cocked an eyebrow. "I still don't see any other option."

Leo shook his head sadly at Harris' hard-headed attitude. Xander was a paladin at heart and did not know the meaning of the word quit. "Your current assignments are Amy Madison and Tara Maclay."

Xander thought hard for a moment. "Never heard of any Maclay in Sunnydale. And isn't Amy a rat at the moment?"

The Elder looked unconcerned as he replied. "Miss Maclay lives in New Mexico at the moment. I am assigning you to her because the omens point to her resettling in Sunnydale within the year. As for Miss Madison, she will be restored soon."

"And how exactly am I supposed to watch over two witches in New Mexico and California at the same time?"

Leo grinned. "You didn't think whitelighters don't get a few perks did ya? I'll start you learning this stuff as soon as you take the whitelighter's oath."

Xander smirked. "Lay it on me oh elder one."

Leo winced at the vaguely insulting title. "I, insert name here…"

"I, insert name here…" Xander paused for a long moment before he gave in to the death glare that Leo was spearing him with. "I, Alexander Lavelle Harris…"

"Do solemnly swear to give my aid, protection and advice to the witches in my charge…"

"Do solemnly swear to give my aid, protection and advice to the witches in my charge…"

"To abide by the dictates of the Elders and of my conscience…"

"To abide by the dictates of the Elders and of my conscience…"

"And to maintain the highest moral standard in the performance of my duties, to the best of my abilities…"

"And to maintain the highest moral standard in the performance of my duties, to the best of my abilities…"

"I swear this upon my life, my honour and my immortal soul."

"I swear this upon my life, my honour and my immortal soul." A crackle of thunder from up above them shook Leo and Xander out of the moment.

Leo looked up, smiling joyously. "The Creator accepts your service with great joy. For too long has the hellmouth been without close supervision by the side of good."

Xander shrugged. "So what's next, Boss?"

The Elder grinned. "Next up is your training, young whitelighter. And after that you'll go meet your charges. Prepare yourself, Alexander. Your journey has only just begun."

* * *

Some rules for this one. Xander cannot begin a romance with any mortal, especially his charges. Not only has that been done before (Leo and Sam) but it resembles Angel's romance with Buffy which Xander would never emulate. If you want to 'ship Xander, I'd suggest using a whitelighter like Natalie or even Paige.

Please note that while Angel might not have meant to kill Xander, Xander doesn't see it that way. ;)

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	6. Robin Begins (BtVS & Batman)

_**Robin Begins... (BtVS/Batman)**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Batman. They belong to Joss Whedon and DC Comics respectively. This fic follows the Batman Begins continuity.

When Alexander Grayson's parents are killed by Scarecrow's fear gas, Xander decides to exact vengeance. His path irrevocably leads him down the same path as his new guardian, Bruce Wayne. Can Xander and Bruce rid Gotham of the criminal element and the other monsters that stalk the night?

* * *

_Gotham Family Circus  
October 31st 1996_

Flipping through the air with the smooth grace of one who had given his life to acrobatics, Xander caught his step-father's arm and continued his path across the big top. The Flying Graysons were a proud group that did not suffer nets below them. They had been doing this sort of thing since Xander was six.

It was kind of ironic that people in his high school still called him Harris after his biological father. Nobody seemed to be able to forget the washed up drunk that had died in a car crash when Xander was five. He seemed forever destined to be branded with Anthony Harris' name, even though he had long since taken the name of his step-father, John Grayson.

Another flip and Xander was caught by his mother, Jessica. His mother was a true success story. Anthony Harris had been dragging her headlong into the bottle when his abrupt death occurred. The shock of Anthony's death and her original meeting with John Grayson, the handsome young acrobat, had shaken her free. She had since gone to AA and found her calling in flying alongside her new husband and her only son under the big top.

A spectacular spinning flip had Xander on his own trapeze while his step-father caught his mother. Xander was doing this act to honour Jesse. It still pained him to have been the one to put a stake to his best friend, but he somehow knew that Jesse would have understood. Xander was not going to let some monster commit unspeakable acts in Jesse's name and with Jesse's face.

It was a Xander was contemplating Jesse that he noted that the tone of the crowd had changed. Going to Arkham High School, an institution that sat on the Mouth of Hell, meant that Xander could tell the difference between screams of awe and screams of fear. He glanced down at the crowd below and was shocked to see the crowd was tearing itself apart. The Narrows wasn't exactly known for being the best part of town, but this was crazy. He exchanged a glance with his mother and step-father and realised that they were just as mystified. Then it hit them.

It hit like a freight train on all three of the Flying Graysons. An overwhelming fear that blotted out everything else. Xander closed his eyes against the barrage of demonic images that struck him so fiercely. In another universe there might have been clowns in those images but Xander had never had that traumatic birthday episode and his years in the circus had further spared him that fear. Still, the new demonic side of the world that he had only just discovered a week or two ago assaulted his mind ferociously, causing him to shiver as he furiously held his grip on the trapeze, somehow doing so despite the terrible fear.

Unfortunately for Alexander Grayson, his spectacular battle against his fear was not reflected by his parents. Both of them, lifetime acrobats though they were, were not used to fighting their fears as Xander had done every night since the death of Jesse, fighting the fear that Jesse might not understand and would blame him in the afterlife for what he had done.

The screams of John and Jessica Grayson, as they plummeted down from the trapezes that they had released in their terror, echoed through the big top, ignored by all except Alexander Grayson who watched them fall, despite his terror, unable to look away. As he saw the bodies hit a wave of despair hit the lad, compelling him to fall too, but he didn't. Battling that fear was a rage the likes of which had never been seen before. Xander did not know or care who or what was responsible for the death of his parents. All he knew was that someone was going to pay for this.

They would pay dearly…

* * *

_Batcave  
November 1st 1996_

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce Wayne, millionaire, glanced at his beloved butler Alfred with a mildly curious expression on his face. "The contractors here already, Alfred?"

Alfred frowned slightly. It still pained him that Bruce's Batcave was the only part of the manor to have survived Ra's Al Ghul's attack on the city last night. "I'm afraid not, Sir."

Bruce's curiosity increased. "Then what is it, Alfred?"

The butler maintained his imperturbable façade. "I thought you might like to know the casualty figures from last night's antics."

Bruce flinched spectacularly at that proclamation. "I know you don't approve of what I do, Alfred…"

A soft smile graced the aged butler's face as he cut his charge off. "On the contrary, Master Bruce. I am very proud of what you did last night. If not for what you did it is incredibly likely that the figures would have been far higher then they were"

Bruce acknowledged the butler's attempt to cheer up with a sardonic smile. "What have we got, Alfred?"

"Well, as far as people wounded, the numbers are rather staggering. Three hundred and fifty wounded, many of them severely. However, when you consider the population of Gotham…"

"How many deaths, Alfred?"

"Thirteen, Sir. Which I should point out is solely due to your work getting the antidote distributed with dispatch…"

Bruce ignored Alfred and plowed on. "How many orphaned?"

Alfred winced at that. Orphans hit close to home for Bruce. "Just the one."

Bruce's scowl was fierce. "One is too much."

"Quite so, Master Bruce." Without even asking, Alfred slipped a tape of the incident into the receiver.

Bruce watched the recording of the trapeze act at the Gotham Family Circus with the sense of someone that was watching a car crash. He wanted desperately to look away and yet he could not disgrace the deaths of the Flying Graysons by doing so. John and Jessica Grayson hadn't stood a chance, hanging from trapezes as they were when the fear had overwhelmed them.

But it was not the Graysons that captivated Bruce the most. No, it was their son. So much fear. It was blatantly obvious that the boy was just as terrified as his parents and yet he held on to the trapeze with only one arm. And the look in his eyes as the boy watched his parents plunge to their deaths. There was fear, of course. One could not be affected by Scarecrow's fear gas and fail to feel fear. But there was also anger… no, wrath.

Yes, that was it. The boy was filled with wrath. The absolute fury in the lad's eyes held Bruce there for almost fifteen minutes. He had never seen such rage before, but he had felt it. It gave him a connection to the youth that would not be denied. "What's going to happen to him, Alfred?"

The butler looked up in mild shock. He had known Bruce would identify with the lad, but if he was right… "He'll be placed into foster care, Master Bruce."

Bruce winced at the thought. Foster care had its good places and its bad places and Gotham was firmly in the bad. "When the contractor gets here to begin the rebuild, we're going to meet this kid, Alfred. And if he's willing I'm going to make him my ward."

Alfred had not expected Bruce to have a child whilst relatively young and certainly not while unmarried. "If I may ask, Sir. Why this boy? What is it about him?"

"He's me, Alfred." Bruce's voice was heavy. "He's me when my parents were gunned down. He is going to follow my path whether the world wants him to or not. The only thing I can do is prepare his so that when he walks down that path he will have the skills to survive."

It was then that Alfred too looked into the eyes of the young trapeze artist on the screen and saw what it was that Bruce did... Kin. "Very good, Sir."

* * *

Ideas for people who use this idea: Perhaps during a darker period in Xander's development he can take on a more realistic version of the identity of Red X? This continuity begins with Buffy moving to the Gotham City Hellmouth, right beneath Arkham High School in the Narrows.

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	7. The Unspeakables (BtVS & Harry Potter)

_**The Unspeakables... (BtVS/Harry Potter)**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively. I also don't own The Lord of the Rings or The Untouchables. They belong to John R.R. Tolkien and Paramount Pictures respectively.

AN: The idea behind this fic was inspired by a line from Jeconais' _White Knight, Grey Queen_

_Harry's article during his fifth year has more of an effect then he had expected. It kicks off an active period in the history of one of Britain's oldest and most secret organisations. Voldemort had better hold onto his hat. The Unspeakables are on the prowl and they fight dirty._

* * *

**_March 23rd 2011  
Diagon Alley, London_**

_'Harry Potter Speaks Out At Last: The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named And The Night I Saw Him Return'_. The man in the crisp, dark suit smirked at the headline of the _Quibbler_. He had always enjoyed some of the off-the-wall articles that were posted there and was a devoted reader as a consequence. This, however, was big. Harry Potter was speaking out at long last. More importantly, the lad had provided a comprehensive list of the loyal Death Eaters who had attended the Dark Lord's resurrection. Cornelius Fudge had suppressed what few names Potter had given out so thoroughly that not even the man in the suit's fellow agents could get a hold of them. The man had strongly believed that Lucius Malfoy was one for some time, but the Director had wanted more the educated guesswork. And until Potter had spoken out, that's all they had. No longer.

The man in the suit was a unique one. He was the head of a secret organisation known only as the Unspeakables. He answered only to the Director of the Department of Mysteries. His code name was Paladin. He had chosen it as a modification of a title he had been branded with by an old enemy. His real name? Paladin didn't use his real name anymore. His first name was only ever used when he was in trouble and he was well shut of it. His middle name was a horror that no one should have been inflicted with. His last name was discarded because he associated it with his drunken, abusive, useless father. His nickname… She had given him that nickname so very long ago. He had no wish to remember her any longer. He had loved her… Best friend since forever… And then she had gone mad with grief and he was the one that put her down personally. Some things were best left in the past. He was Paladin, Leader of the Unspeakables. That was all he needed.

Paladin grinned at his companion. "Lookie here, Jack. The Potter kid's sent us an early present from the Easter Bunny."

Jack's inscrutable expression shifted to show just the vaguest hint of a smile. "Cool."

Paladin shook his head in amusement at Jack's typical, monosyllabic response. His fellow Unspeakable had been like that since long before the man had taken the name Jack. "You know what this means, don't you? Hunting season is open."

Jack shrugged, offering no verbal response. Still, a trained Unspeakable could pick up the unspoken enthusiasm in the movement. Jack might be a man of few words and fewer expressions, but he really disliked dark wizards. It happens often when a local dark wizard decides that a werewolf pelt would make a powerful talisman and tries to take yours by force.

Paladin grinned. "Let's get back to base, Jack. Director Croaker should be willing to let us go ahead now."

* * *

**_March 25th 2011  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire_**

"Master…"

Voldemort smiled at the proper obeisance offered by his loyal Death Eater. He would torture Karkaroff for a thousand years for betraying Rookwood's cover. Tom was quite certain he would have regained his form years earlier if only his loyal Unspeakable had been free to act. "Rise, Augustus. I wish to know of the Hall of Prophecies."

The Death Eater affected an air of confusion. "What exactly is it you wish to know, my Master?"

The Dark Lord restrained himself from lashing out. The question was certainly valid. There were likely thousands of facts to be known about the Hall of Prophecies, some that Rookwood would know and some that he wouldn't. Besides, Augustus was particularly useful and had proven his loyalty. It wouldn't do to torture him without cause. "I wish to know exactly how one may retrieve or view a specific prophecy."

Rookwood's face betrayed nothing. "The only people capable of lifting the prophecy are those who it concerns, the one who heard it, or the one who spoke it. All others would be unable to remove it and would likely be struck down by powerful magic."

Voldemort winced internally. According to what he knew, that left a disgustingly select few. Trelawney was right out. Dumbledore had that irritating woman shut away at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was likewise unacceptable. The old man was much too canny and powerful to allow himself to be manoeuvred into removing the prophecy, and even if he would, it would be next to impossible to take from him. The Dark Lord himself could not take it. His presence in the Department of Mysteries would have the effect of trumpeting his presence to every corner of the Ministry. Fudge's wilful denial of the truth was too useful to sacrifice unnecessarily. That left Potter. Difficult, very difficult, but with Snape destroying what mental defences the boy had, Tom might be able to influence the boy's mind just enough. Decision made, Voldemort nodded mentally. "Excellent work, Rookwood. Send Avery in on your way out."

The Death Eater bowed slavishly and walked out with his head held high. Rookwood smiled faintly as he heard Avery's terrible screams. Failure was a bitter pill to swallow.

Augustus walked calmly to his assigned room at Malfoy Manor, shutting the door behind him. A moment later and privacy spells and detection charms began springing from his wand, making sure that the room was absolutely secure. Lucius Malfoy was a sneaky bugger and it wouldn't do to be careless.

Finally satisfied that his room was clean of surveillance spells, Augustus opened a trunk that had been with him when he escaped from Azkaban. He had kept it shrunken and hidden whilst in prison, originally smuggling it in by swallowing the shrunken and heavily enspelled item. Within the trunk was a wide assortment of necessary items for an Unspeakable or his calibre. The one he was most interested in, right now, was his palantír.

The palantíri were one of the best kept secrets in magical Britain. Originally created by Merlin for his primary apprentices, the Istari, they had been corrupted by the Dark Lord Sauron and used in his bid to take over the nation. The Dark Lord had been backed by a powerful goblin warlord, Grishnákh the Great, and had used his hold over the palantíri to corrupt one of the Istari and a local muggle Lord. The betrayal of Saruman and the madness of Denethor had nearly resulted in the Dark Lord's victory. Luckily the great muggle Lord Aragorn and another Istari named Gandalf had resisted long enough for the Dark Lord's only horcrux to be destroyed. Little was known about the being that destroyed the so-called ruling ring. The palantíri passed out of knowledge for many years until they were gathered up by the precursors of the Unspeakables. Magicks that are long since lost were used to cleanse them and restore them to their original purpose… the protection of Britain.

Rookwood placed his had over the palantír, calling upon its power to link with the master palantír in the Department of Mysteries.

Moments later, the image of Paladin coalesced into being. "Hello, Special Agent Castle. I see He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated has _rescued_ you from Azkaban."

Castle smirked at the sarcasm in Paladin's voice. Paladin had a real hate on for Dark Wizards and Witches. Castle shuddered to think what Paladin would have done to him if the former's defection to the Death Eaters had been anything but a hoax. "My occlumency kept the dementors from being able to harm me, Sir. I thank you for smuggling in the extra food. Azkaban meals aren't fit for a dog. I remain strong and fit for duty."

The Commander of the Unspeakables nodded agreeably. "Your sacrifice is much appreciated, Castle. Excellent work. What do you have for me?"

"The Dark Lord demanded that I tell him how one might remove a prophecy from the Hall of Prophecies…"

"And you told him…?"

"I informed him about the subjects of the prophecy, the recipient of the prophecy and the actual seer."

The Lead Unspeakable nodded. "You kept quiet about the remaining people who could access it?"

"Yes Sir."

"Excellent. Keep up the good work, Castle. If Voldemort should find out about the others with access, simply claim that you weren't aware. He knows full well that the Hall wasn't your assignment."

"Understood, Sir. Castle out."

* * *

**_March 27th 2011  
Construction Site, Wiltshire_**

Lucius Malfoy walked calmly across a muggle street, pretending for all the world that he was anywhere but in a muggle part of town. He wanted more then anything to be back at his Manor, but he had to move about in the muggle way. It is an unfortunate fact of life that certain dark objects are extremely volatile when transported by magical means. That left Lucius with only muggle means to get the needed objects from his vault to his Manor.

Malfoy was just passing by a construction site when one of the workers spotted him and shouted out to him. "Hey Gov, got the time?"

Malfoy stared at the construction worker that was trotting up with a crowbar slung onto his shoulder. "The time for what?" he said in his most condescending voice.

The construction worker didn't seem to notice how very unwelcome he was. "The time, Gov. You know… on your watch?"

Lucius finally figured out what the ill-bred muggle was trying to say. Normally he wouldn't give the ruffian so much as a second look, but he wanted to blend as much as was possible and if giving this ape the time would make less of a splash, the Dark Lord would be well pleased. Malfoy flipped open his pocket watch. "It is 10:32."

The construction worker nodded agreeably. "Thanks, Gov. Much obliged." And with that the construction worker lashed out with the crowbar.

So stunned was Lucius at the sudden attack that he failed to do anything. He didn't apparate, as dangerous as that would have been, he didn't draw his wand, and he didn't even use the knife that was concealed in his cane. Instead he dropped like a sack of potatoes as he felt the shattering of one and then another of his kneecaps. The excruciating pain focussed him enough to make a grab for his wand, a move that was thwarted as the crowbar slammed down on his hand.

The ruffian smiling at Lucius and whispering softly, "Lucy… You got some 'splainin' to do." Lucius was quickly gagged and tossed over the muggle's shoulder, an invisibility cloak draping over the pair of them and making Malfoy suddenly very nervous. His last thought before passing out from the pain was to wonder how he had fallen to the point where he was stuck staring at some ruffian's posterior as he was dragged off to Merlin only knew where.

* * *

**_March 30th 2011  
Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London_**

Morningstar sighed in frustration. The tall brunette was utterly tired of watching the entrance to see who came in. Normally, this would have been child's play. The only people actually authorised to enter the Department were the Unspeakables, who all wore distinctive cloaks, the Researchers whom she knew by sight and the Director who wore an Unspeakable cloak.

The problem Morningstar had was with the Order of the Phoenix. Technically the group of bumbling incompetents was on the right side, so arresting them or taking them out wasn't really an option. Unfortunately, as previously stated, they ranged from moderately competent to utter idiots. Their decision to guard the Department of Mysteries was not only unnecessary since the Unspeakables guarded it very jealously, but also caused security issues since it was very difficult to pick out who was an Order member and who was a Death Eater. Suffice it to say it made the Unspeakables' expert sniper more then a touch irritated.

* * *

**_April 2nd 2011  
The Forbidden Forest, Near Hogsmeade_**

"The Dark Lord has offered us freedoms that the Ministry will never truly allow. Freedom to work, hunt and spread our gift as we may…"

Jack frowned faintly as he listened to the charismatic psychopath that was Fenrir Greyback. In many ways the monster reminded him of a certain female werewolf from his past. She too had thought of her lycanthropy as a gift and the ability to run free on the night of the full moon, something that endangered countless people, was her right. It was until Jack had taken it from her, permanently. It was only the sheer number of werewolves in the area that kept Jack from trying to end Fenrir on this night.

"Our gift… What exactly does this gift we have provide us with, Fenrir? Power is all well and good but what use is it without the mind to wield it properly. Lycanthropy is a disease and a curse and needs to be treated as such. Surrendering to the wolf simply brings us all another step towards self-destruction."

Jack sighed. Lupin played on the other extreme Fenrir. He feared the wolf too much to ever hope to achieve the control that Jack and Fenrir had. Jack had learned long ago that by accepting the wolf and making it part of you, one could truly control the change. He had the werewolf monks in Nepal to thank for this breakthrough.

Fenrir glared at Lupin. "Well if it isn't the traitor. Enjoy your latest dose of wolfsbane, Lupin? To think that any wolf I sired could have become a weakling like you."

Lupin growled in anger, his eyes taking on an amber hue. "If you hadn't sired me against my will then perhaps you wouldn't have me disgracing your precious werewolf nation."

And there, as they say, was the rub. Fenrir bit anyone he pleased, without regard for whether they wanted to be a werewolf. The monster was responsible for the divides within the werewolf nation caused by the unwilling weres. He was responsible for the particularly draconian laws that magical Britain had against weres due to his unrestrained spread of the werewolf curse.

Jack watched calmly as Fenrir and Remus sparred verbally for the hearts and minds of the pack. The war of the words would not end this night. Unfortunately, with Fudge in charge of the Ministry, it was almost inevitable that the majority of the werewolves would march under Fenrir's banner.

* * *

**_April 5th 2011  
Defence Against the Dark Arts Office, Hogwarts_**

Dolores Umbridge smirked as she sat in her office, considering the day's work. Albus Dumbledore was gone from Hogwarts. That alone was cause for celebration. The meddling old man had too much power over their society at too many levels to be allowed. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, thus controlling education. He was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, thus controlling legislation and a large portion of the legal system as well. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, thus controlling international magical law and arguably having as much control of international magical politics as the DIMC did. And lastly he was the Head of the Order of the Phoenix, thus keeping control of most vigilante elements, a light-side-oriented spy network, and a certain moral authority in Britain. Dolores had no desire to fall to a dictator, however benign. It was her responsibility to watch over Britain to avoid such people coming into control.

No longer was Dumbledore the benevolent dictator. Dumbledore had lost two of his arguably most influential positions. Now she just needed to keep the old meddler on the back foot. Hopefully her youngest agent would be able to help her with that little problem. A knock rapped itself out on her door. "Come."

The door to Dolores' office opened and in walked young Marietta Edgecombe. "You wanted to see me, Ma'am?"

Dolores offered a benign smile to her agent. "Are you prepared to see if we can't recover your memory, Agent Eagle?"

The girl grinned sheepishly. She hated pretending to be weak, but it had been necessary to allow the obliviation to take. Whoever it was who had wiped her memory had needed to believe total success. And of equal importance was that Director Umbridge had wanted Dumbledore out of Hogwarts, not Harry Potter. On the contrary, Potter was critical to many of their future operations. "Please, Ma'am."

Five minutes later Dolores was able to disrupt the obliviation. Removing an obliviation is a very delicate process, requiring a great deal of power and finesse. Luckily, Dolores Umbridge, despite appearances, had both in spades. She had carefully played the role she needed to for her cover. A foul-up with this process could have broken Marietta's mind, but the only persons at the incident that Dolores couldn't have overpowered were Dumbledore and Potter. Dumbledore was in her sight the whole time and could not have been responsible. Potter, on the other hand, lacked any training in obliviation as yet. "There. I believe that should do it. Who was it, Agent Eagle?"

Marietta thought a moment and came upon the newly uncovered memory, her own mastery of occlumency allowing for a rapid process. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ma'am."

Dolores smirked, looking for all the world like the toad that caught the fly. "Shacklebolt… That wouldn't happen to be the same Shacklebolt that Special Agent Mimic claims is in Dumbledore's precious Order, would it?"

Edgecombe grinned at her superior. "I do believe it is, Madam Director."

* * *

**_April 8th 2011  
Defence Against the Dark Arts Office, Hogwarts_**

"You're not drinking, Mr. Potter."

Harry affected a look of sincere incomprehension. "Of course I am, Professor."

Umbridge offered a condescending look and then sighed. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes widened as he felt a full body bind strike him in the back, followed immediately by conjured ropes which firmly tied him to his chair.

Dolores grinned widely. "That's much better, I think. You see, Mr. Potter, one of the shoddier things to occur under your precious Professor Dumbledore's reign is that wordless magic only begins in one's sixth year. That is why you've never really dealt with it before." Dolores cancelled the body bind on him, but left the ropes.

Once free of the bind, Harry immediately began to speak. "You won't get away with this!"

Dolores laughed heartily, a great departure from the girlish titter she was thus-far known for. "My dear, Mr. Potter, how can you say that? You don't even know what it is that I'm attempting to get away with. If you would…"

Harry was rather confused by the last statement until his head was in the grasp of a pair of feminine hands, wrapping around him and forcing his mouth open. Harry mentally cursed himself for forgetting whoever it was that had cursed him from behind, even as Umbridge poured three drops from a dropper and onto Harry's tongue.

Umbridge sat back behind her desk and gestured dismissively. "You may release him now, Agent Eagle. He's under its effects."

Harry fought furiously against the effects of the powerful truth serum, but there was no mental way to fight the potion. It was purely a chemical reaction.

Dolores leaned back languidly in her seat. "What occurred during the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, after you and Cedric Diggory grabbed the Tri-Wizard Cup?"

Harry was confused at this choice of questioning. Up until now, Umbridge had given every indication of being Fudge's stooge. The marks on his hand alone spoke to that fact. Still, he related the entire incident to her as requested.

Edgecombe took careful notes as precious information spilled forth from Harry Potter's lips. Umbridge was confident that the article in the _Quibbler_ had been true. She had specifically banned it in order to increase interest in an otherwise disreputable magazine. Still, she had wanted it all straight from the horse's mouth. She nodded in satisfaction. "Suffice it to say, everything that was written by Rita Skeeter in that article earlier this year is true then?"

"Yes."

Director Umbridge smiled. "Why did you defend Sirius Black?" Again, Umbridge already had her suspicions based on the tale of Voldemort's resurrection, but she detested agents who made assumptions without evidence and she would not become someone she despised, even if she pretended to be someone she despised.

What followed was a soliloquy from Potter on Sirius Black and how it was he came to be framed.

A new question occurred to the Director as Potter wrapped up his tale. "Who cast the fidelius on the Potter Estate at Godric's Hollow?"

For the first time, Harry seemed to fight with himself. "I'm not certain. Perhaps my Mother? I understand she was a charms expert."

Umbridge shook her head. "Expert or not, Mr. Potter, it is a mystical fact that neither the caster nor the secret keeper of a fidelius charm can spend more then three hours out of every twenty-four in the place they are guarding and the less time they spend there the better. It is part of the trade off required for a charm of such power. Lily Potter stayed there too long to have been the caster."

Edgecombe continued to take rapid notes from behind Potter.

Umbridge stopped herself and moved on. It would not do to waste time. "What is Dumbledore doing to prove Black's innocence?"

"He tried to convince Fudge of it."

Umbridge's blood boiled. Something stunk. Goodness knew that Dumbledore, as head of the Wizengamot, had infinitely more simple methods of getting Black acquitted then relying on Fudge's good sense. 'Or at least he had at the time', she noted mentally with some satisfaction. It was nice to know her belief in Dumbledore's corruption was not unfounded. "Why have you been looking so off, lately?"

Potter shrugged, wondering what the hell was going on. "I haven't been sleeping well. I've been dreaming of a corridor of some kind. Dumbledore thinks its being caused by my mental link with Voldemort." Harry was horrified at the information that was passing his lips.

Umbridge's lips grew thin. "What is Dumbledore doing about this so called mental link with Voldemort?"

If Harry hadn't been under truth serum he would have gaped at hearing someone else, especially a supposed Ministry lackey like Umbridge, call Voldemort by his name. Instead he just answered calmly. "Professor Snape is trying to teach me occlumency."

Dolores nearly popped a blood vessel. "Dumbledore is having you instructed in the mind arts by someone who even an idiot could recognise despises you."

"Yes."

Dolores closed her eyes and prayed to Merlin for patience. She wanted to have a hissy fit over that little tidbit alone. Even if Snape was doing his best to put aside his differences with Potter, Snape's inherent hatred of the boy would make any attempt at teaching him the metal arts worthless. And Dolores was not willing to be generous enough to believe Snape was even that mature. "Remind me to have Special Agent Adama train you personally in the mind arts… Are you confused yet, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded slightly. "Yes."

Umbridge allowed an ugly smile to cross her face as she leaned forward. "It's only going to get worse, young man. I am Director Croaker of the Department of Mysteries. I was wondering if you would care to join the Unspeakables…"

* * *

**_Dramatis Personae_**

_The Unspeakables_

Director Dolores 'Croaker' Umbridge; witch from Lancaster, England

Commander Alexander 'Paladin' Harris; squib from Sunnydale, California (30)

Special Agent Krevlornswath 'Adama'; Deathwok from Pylea (52)  
Special Agent Augustus 'Castle' Rookwood; wizard from Montgomery, Wales (41)  
Special Agent Daniel 'Wolfman Jack' Osbourne; werewolf from Sunnydale, California (31)  
Special Agent Dawn 'Morningstar' Summers; witch from Los Angeles, California (26)  
Special Agent Nymphadora 'Mimic' Tonks; witch from Spelthorne, England (22)

Agent Marietta 'Bronze Eagle' Edgecombe; witch from Belfast, Northern Ireland (16)  
Agent Harry 'Aslan' Potter; wizard from Godric's Hollow, Wales (15)

_Notes:_

Dawn as a Witch: Dawn was moved by her mother to Sunnydale just prior to her eleventh birthday; the presence of the hellmouth kept Salem witches institute from detecting her  
Xander as a Squib: Xander is a squib from a long line of squibs; his family had long since forgotten about magic but they still possessed the ability to see and understand that world  
BtVS Divergence: As some may have figured out this is a Buffy-verse where Xander is forced to kill Willow after he fails to talk her down; he abandons Sunnydale thereafter, feeling that he has failed everyone  
DIMC: The Department of International Magical Cooperation

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours. I also have a pretty awesome picture that goes with this fic.

* * *

Jasper


	8. Reallocating Assets (BtVS & NCIS LA)

_**Reallocating Assets... (BtVS/NCIS: Los Angeles)**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or NCIS: Los Angeles. They belong to Joss Whedon and Shane Brennan respectively, I think.

When Willow's temper tantrum has far-reaching effects, a watcher of a different sort comes to offer Xander and a particularly intriguing destiny all his own. Can he resist it? Will he want to?

AN: Occurs in BtVS: Post Grave; NCIS LA: Post Callen, G.

* * *

_June 2nd 2002  
Caritas, Los Angeles_

Xander took a long pull of his sarsaparilla, grimacing at the taste. What Xander really wanted right now was a beer. His body was crying out for it with a will. Still, Xander had sworn. Xander had sworn he would never become his father. Xander was well aware that one beer would become two and that two would become three, until Xander had become a useless drunk like his father. And Xander was not about to let that happen. That was why Xander sucked it up and sipped his sarsaparilla, despite the fact that he despised the drink.

One might ask why Xander was in a bar, drinking a beverage he despised and craving a beverage he feared more then anything. One who asked such a question should really think about what had happened in Xander's life this past year.

Spike had tried to rape Buffy… Okay, that wasn't exactly ground-breaking news. Xander had long been convinced that Spike's chip-induced reform was done purely out of convenience. The sneaky monster had always been looking for a loophole and had finally found one. Buffy had been having sex with Spike… Okay, that was disgusting. It wasn't unprecedented given her relationship with Angel, but it was still disgusting. It pained him to think how low she must have been feeling to allow that monster to touch her. It galled Xander to realise that Spike had been taking advantage of Buffy right under his nose and he hadn't seen it. Still, there was a happy thought in all that misery. Buffy had finally regained enough self-respect to say no and Spike was thoroughly MIA. Okay, make that two happy thoughts. That was satisfactory as far as Xander was concerned.

Willow had gone off the deep end. His Willow… best friend since forever… had tried to end the world. Xander only thanked god, or whatever, that he had been able to talk his Willow-girl down. She was in England now, with Giles, getting some serious psychological help. Between the black magic addiction and Tara's death, Willow was not a happy puppy these days. Xander just hoped she'd come back to him in more or less one whole, Willow-shaped piece.

Xander wasn't even sure if he cared that Anya had left him. It might seem cold to many but Xander couldn't muster much worry for his ex-fiance right then. She had left him, again. She hadn't understood why he needed to stay with Buffy and Dawn. He hadn't been able to accept her return to being a vengeance demon. She had left him and he had let her go with little more then a shrug. The love of his life shattered with a shrug. Xander sometimes wondered if that was how Atlas felt.

The worst had come a few weeks after Willow's nearly world-ending hissy fit. The massive amount of magic she had displaced during her tantrum had destabilised the hellmouth's always precarious mystical balance. The resulting series of earthquakes and aftershocks had required the evacuation of the entire damn town. It had been very close. The car carrying him, Buffy and Dawn had been one of the last ones out before the whole town dropped down a massive sinkhole. Xander wasn't even sure if his parents had been sober enough at the time to evacuate.

Xander's apartment, his job and his home town were all gone in the moment Sunnydale went under. On a slightly happy note, it had taken the hellmouth with it, but it still rang sour with him. Buffy and he were currently raising Dawnie together, though their relationship was still quite platonic. Dawn was attending Hemery, much to Buffy's amusement. Buffy was working for Angel Investigations, which was a whole load of Angel-induced angst that Xander could have done without. Still, Xander appreciated that Angel was helping Buffy out.

The real laugh had been when Angel had offered Xander a job. Xander had refused outright. He appreciated the offer, he really did. The problem was that he couldn't bring himself to take orders from Deadboy. It went against Xander's grain to answer to a vampire, even one that was technically good… at the moment.

"Mr. Harris."

Xander turned around to find a positively tiny woman standing next to him. She was so tiny she made Buffy look like a giant, which was an achievement. Still, Buffy had taught him thoroughly to not judge a person by their height. "Ms. Lange, I presume."

The woman behind the large glasses smirked faintly at him. "Indeed, Mr. Harris. Do you mind if I join you?"

Xander simply motioned her to the other seat in his booth. "You been here before?" He had not gotten the impression from her message that she dealt in the supernatural.

The faint smirk became more pronounced. "Lorne is an old friend. I once took my team here to sing for him. It made for quite the evening." For some reason a shadow of sadness appeared on her face when she mentioned 'that night'. Xander supposed that the anagogic demon had seen something unpleasant.

"Speaking of your team, who do you represent? Your message just said that you might have a job opening that could benefit from someone of my talents. I'm assuming its not construction?"

A soft snort broken the silence. "Certainly not. While your construction work background is not wholly unsuitable, its certainly not the skill set that I had in mind. I represent a particular faction of NCIS." Lange smiled as she noted Xander's shoulders stiffen. "I'd wondered if you had heard of us. Trolling through footage of what happened on Halloween of 1997 was difficult and we couldn't quite figure out what kind of soldier you went as…" The woman let the question hang.

"A private in the United States Marine Corps."

The Manager of the Office of Special Projects smiled slightly. "I'd thought so. Something about the walk just screamed marine. It also explains your little culture clash with Finn and his merry band…"

Xander frowned deeply at the dissertation. "You'll forgive me if I'm not thrilled that you've been watching us and not helping at all."

The woman shrugged, looking not the least bit apologetic. "I make no apologies, Mr. Harris. Most of the information I get on you is studied after everything is over, and even if it weren't I have no jurisdiction in those matters."

"Neither do I, and it never stopped me."

The smile reappeared. "Not much of anything seems to stop you, Mr. Harris. You've heard of NCIS, have you ever come across the Office of Special Projects?"

Xander's mild hostility was replaced with curiosity. "I can't say that I have."

"Good, then my people are doing their jobs. What I would like to do is recruit you to join us. As I said, your skill set is quite impressive…"

The so-called Zeppo did not allow anything to show this time. "Which skill set would that be, exactly?"

Ms. Lange just smiled benignly. "In point of fact… There is your knowledge of the supernatural, your more then reasonable marksmanship, your knowledge of firearms and explosives, your ability to work under the radar of local law enforcement, your ability to blatantly lie and bluff at the drop of the hat, your courage and the fact that you are not mystically augmented in any way."

"I take it that you're some sort of super-covert arm of NCIS then?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny such a thing, Mr. Harris. At least not until you sign on with us."

"Why is mystical augmentation a bad thing exactly?"

"Two reasons, Mr. Harris. The first is that mystical augmentations tend to make one stick out or to inconvenience one. A slayer is too strong and sticks out because of it. A werewolf suffers from that time of the month and is unavailable because of it. I could go on…"

"No need. The second reason?"

"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, Mr. Harris. Any advantage given mystically can be counteracted either by the nature of the advantage or by other methods. We prefer to rely on the proven base ability of the ordinary human."

"It's Xander, Ms. Lange."

"I think not, Mr. Harris. I prefer to call you by your name."

"Alexander, then?"

"I suppose that will do."

"Then I suppose you've got a deal, Ms. Lange."

The woman smiled again, this one seeming more genuine then any other before it. "You never protested your ability to lie and bluff. Most people take offence at that."

Xander shrugged. "I'm assuming, since you've been watching me for several years from the sounds of things, that you know what you are talking about."

"Indeed I do. I'm not sure what I considered more impressive, you staring down that zombie over a ticking bomb or the rather impressive pile of manure that you shoveled on that poor lad guarding the Sunnydale Armoury…"

A smirk greeted her in response to that comment. "I personally prefer the zombie incident. I wasn't aware that a zombie could practically piss himself with fear before then. It was incredibly satisfying to be the one inducing the terror for once."

The woman nodded amiably. "I can readily imagine in that line of business, Alexander. You are to report to this address, 7:30 sharp." She slid a business card across the table to him. "The password will be Nighthawk."

Xander glanced up at her as the woman got up. He found he really didn't want to know how she had discovered that name. "I'll be there."

Ms. Lange stopped at the door of Lorne's establishment. "Alexander?"

The man who would soon be known as Special Agent Harris met her gaze unflinchingly. "Yes, Ms. Lange?"

"Call me Hetty."

* * *

NCIS: Los Angeles is sadly underrepresented so far, especially considering how close LA is to Sunnydale. It's time to change that... ;)

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

_Jasper_


	9. Avengers Assembled (BtVS & Marvel)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, SHIELD, the X-men or the Avengers. They belong to Joss Whedon and Marvel Comics respectively. I also don't own the Flintstones. They belong to Hanna-Barbera.

* * *

_**March 15**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier**_

_**New York City Airspace**_

Colonel Nicholas Fury, the commander of SHIELD glanced about his office on the recently completed helicarrier. The vehicle itself was an architectural marvel that he, as a former construction worker, could easily appreciate. The helicarrier was pioneered by the shared genius of Winifred Burkle and Gene Rainey. Fury still thought those two made a disgustingly cute, if slightly disturbing couple. Certainly their brains had been a boon to him at SHIELD.

Nick Fury was an enigma among his own people, barring a paltry few. He had not existed in official records until 2003, when he and the group that would be called the Howling Commandos had stormed into Africa to rescue a slayer that had been captured by a local warlord. No one had really understood what drove Fury to recover Buffy Summers quite so forcefully. Suffice it to say they knew better now.

A brisk knock at the door of his office signaled a temporary stop in Nick's musings. "Come in, Dum Dum."

Andrew Wells walked into the office, offering a mild glare at his superior officer. Wells was one of the few who knew about Fury's past life and lived to keep his mouth shut about it. Wells did not deign to remark on Fury's derogatory nickname. He had only complained the once. Nick's reply that Andrew's moustache made him look like an idiot had shut the younger man up permanently. Despite that, though, Andrew still refused to shave it. Fury still wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disgusted. "Reports are in on the Alkali Lake incident, Boss."

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose in silent frustration. Alkali Lake was a headache that the fledgling organisation did not need. The President of the United States wanted answers about that fiasco and Fury had few good ones. At least the blame for it wasn't really his to bear. The Weapon X Initiative, which had caused such monsters as Sabretooth and ADAM to be loosed on the world, had been a fiasco of epic proportions. At least ADAM was long dead. Fury wasn't willing to count out Sabretooth until he got a chance to personally watch the creature beheaded. "What do we have so far, Andrew?"

Wells grimaced slightly. "It was Stryker again. He seems to have been behind it. The good news is that he bought the biscuit this time. We've recovered his body, among the many others."

Fury picked up one of his precious Cuban cigars and lit up. Buffy had once told him that he'd die of lung cancer or give it to Dawn. Nick had scoffed loudly at her and informed her that he and Dawn were going to die in battle, long before cancer was an issue. Besides, Fury never smoked around Dawn. He cared too much about her to risk her life for his bad habits. "We get anything from the computers?"

Here Andrew smiled a bit. Computers were his bread and butter. He might not have been the brilliant inventor that Warren had been, but Wells could make a computer dance to his tune with the best of them. "Including all records and security footage, Boss."

"What have we got, then?"

"Looks like a very unlikely partnership, Boss. We've got members of the X-men, members of the Brotherhood and even the mutant who attempted to assassinate the president…"

Fury's eyes widened. "What have we got on that guy?"

Wells smirked. He'd known the boss would be interested in that one. "Kurt Wagner is a German national, known to have been heavily involved in the Munich circus. He was adopted with no current info on his birth parents. We've got his DNA from Stryker's lab, but neither mother nor father are in any known database. Interesting fact is that one of his parents is of demonic origins…"

"A half-blood. Poor kid. Half-bloods are treated badly enough by both sides normally, mixing in a mutation would just make the problem crazier. Why did Stryker have the kid's DNA on file?"

Andrew smirked nastily. "You are gonna love this, Boss. This kid, Wagner, was a subject of Weapon X. Stryker used a mind-control drug he's been testing on the kid. You know what that means?"

Fury matched his junior officer smirk for smirk. "It means that we have Stryker and Weapon X down as orchestrating a hit on the president. Which means that we can finally close those bastards down for good. The Commander in Chief tends to look with a frown on people trying to kill him." Nick allowed his smirk to turn into a faint frown. "It also means that you better have made sure any records of that shit is destroyed, along with any and all samples of it. The last thing this planet needs is a product like that getting into the wrong hands."

Wells nodded an acknowledgement. "Don't worry about that, Boss. I saw to the destruction of the serum, and all records of how one might go about creating it, personally. All I left behind was that it existed and what it had been used for."

"Good initiative, Andrew. So what was the actual situation?"

"It seems Stryker managed to get a hold of Professor Charles Xavier and use his son's mental abilities to try to make Xavier kill all mutants worldwide."

Fury's lip curled. "God I'm glad that nutjob is dead. How do you explain the attack on non-mutants?"

"It was Lehnsherr, Boss. He…"

Fury winced. "Say no more, Andrew. I know all I need to know about dear old Uncle Erik. He saw an opportunity and he ran with it. I suppose it's too much to hope that the old man met his end too?"

Wells shrugged slightly. "Sorry, Boss. I'm afraid you'll have to settle for dancing on Stryker's grave."

The Colonel offered an eloquent snort in response. "You can count on that, Drew. Okay, inform the president about Stryker's involvement in the assassination attempt and get permission for us to close Weapon X down permanently. I'm tired of dealing with their crap."

Andrew nodded dutifully. "And Magneto, Sir?"

Nick chewed on his cigar for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. SHIELD employed the best and brightest, but they were still just normal humans. To deal with the likes of Magneto, they needed a team they could count on. The X-men were good, but they weren't loyal enough to the government for his tastes. He wanted a reliable group.

After a few moments inspiration struck him. Magneto was still fighting World War II. It seemed only appropriate to give the old man a response used in that same war. "Dum Dum, inform the President and the Secretary of Defence that I'd like to discuss reopening the Avengers Initiative."

Andrew offered another mild glare before offering his response. "As you command, oh Great Gazoo…"

* * *

_**March 20**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**Watchers' Council Local Base of Operations**_

_**Rio de Janeiro, Brazil**_

"I need you Wills."

"He's my father, Xander. It doesn't matter that he didn't raise me. He's still my father."

"Please don't call me that Wills. I haven't been Xander in a long time."

"I'm sorry. I still don't understand why you changed it, Nick. What was so wrong with Xander?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, Willow. Besides, we have to talk about what's in front of us. You know that."

"You're asking me to set myself actively against my own father, Nick. I don't know if I can do that."

"Your father is becoming that which he despises most, Wills. Just a few weeks ago he tried to assassinate every ordinary human in the world. Do you know what that would have done?"

"That was only after somebody else tried to do the same exact thing to mutants."

"So two wrongs make a right? Shall we slaughter all the non-Jews in Germany to make up for the slaughter of the Jews there in the forties?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Damn it, Wills! We've been friends a long time. I don't want to set you against your dad, but the time may come when you might have to do it anyway. Your father is essentially Darth Vader. Now you can let the Jedi Purges run or you can try to help us stop the madness before he goes too far to ever be redeemed. I need you with me, Wills. Your powers as both a witch and a mutant are exactly the sort of thing I need."

"You're sure you can ram this initiative through?"

"The president will see reason. The fact that the direct assassination attempt, by a mutant, was actually caused by ordinary humans has taken a lot of the heat off."

"Okay, Nick. You've got your Red Witch."

"I always thought of you as more of a Scarlet."

* * *

_**March 25**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**Federal Bureau of Investigation**_

_**Washington D.C.**_

Special Agent Philip Doyle sighed dramatically. "I'm sorry about this, Colonel Fury. That girl just seems to enjoy screwing with us."

Nick shrugged as if it didn't matter one whit to him. "It's all right, Phil. I'm sure she'll be briefed when you find her." The commander of SHIELD paused for a long moment. "I'd like to procure her services if I can get the president to sign off on the Avengers Initiative."

Doyle glanced up, somewhat confused. "The what now?"

"The Avengers Initiative. This project basically authorises the formation of a combat team of superhumans, meant to tackle super-human threats. You may recall Captain Rogers and his team from World War II?"

"I hope you're referring to history classes, because there is no way that I was alive for that."

Fury smirked. "I am well aware of that, Phil. Still, you've heard of them?"

"Of course I've heard of them. But don't you want to stick with mutants for this project?"

Nick smirked at his old friend. "I'm interested in all registered super-humans, including your invisible girl…"

Doyle glanced around warily, as if afraid he was going to be attacked. "I'm just her handler, Nick. You realise I can't make any promises without consulting her personally. Not to mention my superiors."

The colonel offered a mocking smirk. "If I can get this initiative past the president then your superiors won't be a consideration. I'll just walk right over them. As for your agent…" Nick blew a particularly large cloud of smoke out in front of him. "I have a feeling she'll turn up soon."

Doyle spun slightly as he noticed the cloud of smoke was not spreading evenly. That was when the coughing and gasping began before Special Agent Marcie Ross began to revert to her visible form. When Ross finally stopped coughing she shot a vicious glare at Fury. "How the hell did you know where I was?"

Nick smirked in reply. "You grind your teeth when someone calls you the invisible girl. It's rather audible if you're listening for it."

Doyle started to laugh as he too heard Marcie's teeth begin to grind again. Doyle made a note to get that girl in to see a dentist soon. All that grinding couldn't be good for her…

* * *

_**March 27**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier**_

_**Washington D.C. Airspace**_

A double rap at the door signalled the arrival of Nick's latest guest. "Send him in, Dum Dum."

The currently red-haired werewolf did not wait long before speaking. "He hates that."

Nick glanced up to lock eyes with Daniel Osbourne, the one-time love of his best friend's life. "I hate his moustache, Oz. Until he shaves the lip-ferret, I'm not letting it go."

The werewolf offered a shrug in response. "I hear you go by Fury now."

The colonel offered a smile to his old friend. "Yes I do. I'd wondered if you'd recognise me these days."

Another shrug. "Why?"

Fury speared the werewolf with a direct look. "If you're asking about the name change, that's none of your business. If you're asking about why I called you here, it's quite simple. I am reenacting the Avengers Initiative that was originally enacted to meet superhuman threats from Hitler's Nazi Empire. I'd like for you to be one of the new Avengers."

The werewolf looked thoughtful to Fury, but it was difficult to tell with one so closed up. "Willow?"

The faintest hint of a frown hit Nick's face. "Wills will be a member. What you two choose to do about your former relationship is your own business, so long as it does not interfere with any of your missions. Otherwise, your commander will be authorised to get involved for the good of the team." Fury took the resulting silence to be an acknowledgement of the proclamation. "So what do you think, Oz?"

"Cool."

Fury grinned. "Same old Oz-man."

* * *

_**March 30**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**The White House**_

_**Washington D.C.**_

John McKenna, President of the United States, stared fixedly at the person of Colonel Nick Fury. "You want to do what, Colonel?"

"I want to restore the Avengers Initiative, Sir. With all due respect to Secretary Trask…" Here Fury shot a glance at Bolivar Trask, the current Secretary of Defence, "I believe the Sentinel Program is too extreme. If that project was to go rogue like Weapon X did then the results would be too horrifying to imagine."

Trask refused to be silent at this. "The Sentinels will not go rogue. I can assure you that the programing that is being created is absolutely perfect."

Here Fury couldn't help but scoff. "My apologies, Mr. Secretary, but the programming of ADAM was reputedly perfect too, right up until the point when he went rogue."

Bolivar's jaw clenched but he nodded a faint acknowledgement of Nick's point. As much as all of those present hated the Weapon X project, they had to acknowledge that ADAM's programming had seemed viable at the time. "What do you suggest then, Colonel? How do we ensure the loyalty of this super-team?"

Fury grinned back at his superior. "I've managed to secure the services of a loyal FBI agent, the primary witch of the Watchers' Council, and a werewolf of my acquaintance. The FBI agent's record is excellent these days. The werewolf is fully in control of himself and is an old friend of mine. As for the witch…"

"Magneto's daughter." Trask frowned. "You want us to use Magneto's daughter to fight him?"

Nick shrugged. "She never knew him growing up. And while she does feel a certain attachment to the man, she feels it will be better for her father, in the long run, if he can be brought to justice."

The President cut Trask off before he could speak again. "Mr. Secretary, Miss Rosenberg's record is unimpeachable. I am satisfied as to her loyalty. And the rest of the team, Colonel? I am assuming you realise that three people is not sufficient, even taking Miss Rosenberg's sheer power into account."

The colonel nodded. "I have two more in mind, Sir. The first is my wife." Before anyone could object he cut them off. "Her new talents make her a spectacular resource. Honestly, I doubt she'd listen if I told her not to get involved. She understands chain of command and will respond to the orders of whoever we place in charge."

McKenna decided to let it go. Mrs. Harris did have quite a resource at her disposal. Her exposure to 'Pym Particles' at UC Berkeley had triggered extraordinary powers in her that allowed her to change her size at will. Originally it had been assumed to be caused by her then boyfriend, Kenny, but it had turned out to have been caused by her exposure to a science project by Henry Pym. Pym had since been expelled from Berkeley for his failure to take adequate safety precautions. "And who will you have for leadership? Rosenberg?"

Fury grinned. "I'm afraid not, Sir. While Willow is not compromised by her father's presence on the other side, I'm sure you'd agree that we shouldn't tempt fate. Besides, she doesn't fit the profile I'm looking for. The leader of the Avengers needs to be someone that society will see as an incorruptible symbol. Someone they can always count on."

The President considered but could come up with no one who met that profile. Surely he didn't mean? "You're not asking to take command personally, are you?"

Nick actually laughed aloud at the suggestion. "Certainly not, sir. For countless reasons, even. The most prominent reason being that I am needed at SHIELD."

McKenna nodded agreeably. "I'm glad you're being reasonable about this, Nick. We need you where you are. But who would you place there, then?"

Fury smirked. "Captain America."

Bolivar refused to remain silent. "Rogers is dead, Colonel. How can a dead man lead the team?"

"I don't believe I ever claimed that Rogers would lead the team. I'd like permission to pass the shield of Captain America to a new man, one who has proven his loyalty to this country many times over. He is willing to undergo the serum, if you are willing to authorise it, Mr. President."

McKenna frowned. "That remaining dose of the serum was being kept in reserve for trying times, Colonel."

The commander of SHIELD shrugged as if it didn't matter. "With all due respect, Mr. President… the time is now.

* * *

_**April 2**__**nd**_ _**2015**_

_**S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier**_

_**Washington D.C. Airspace**_

"When were you planning on telling me, Nick?"

"Telling you what, love?"

"Telling me that you were reactivating the Avengers Initiative. It's all over the helicarrier, Nick. Did you really think I wouldn't find out until it was too late for me to join?"

"No, not really."

"Then why did you hide it from me? You know how I feel about this. I can't stay on the sidelines anymore then you could. And you of all people have no right try to do that to me."

"You're right…"

"Damn right, I'm right. So why did you do it, Nick?"

"I didn't."

"You most certainly did."

"Dawnie, I only kept it from you so that you wouldn't get your hopes up. I only got the go ahead on it on the thirtieth and I wanted to tell you in person. I was just about to tell you right now."

"You were honestly going to tell me? Right now?"

Nick nodded solemnly and drew out the papers he had been holding, offering them to her. They clearly stated the enactment of the Avengers Initiative and that Dawn herself was accepted as a member, pending her own acceptance. "Read it over if you don't believe me."

Dawn merely glanced at the papers, just long enough to read the highlights before she slammed into her husband of five years. "Can you ever forgive me for doubting you?"

Nick just smiled as he held her for a moment. "You were right to worry, love. If I thought there was any chance to convince you to step back, I'd have done it. I love you too much to risk it. But I know you and you'd never sit on the sidelines without a fight. We're too much alike for that. So I didn't bother to try."

"Thank you, Nick."

"So… You want to come up with your codename?"

Dawn smirked before drawing her husband into a kiss. "It can wait…"

* * *

_**April 5**__**th**_ _**2015**_

_**In front of the White House**_

_**Washington D.C.**_

John McKenna stood proudly at the dais, hoping that Fury's SHIELD agents and the Avengers would be enough to keep him safe in the event of another attempt on his life. "My fellow Americans, in these troubling times we are presented with a moment. A moment we must use to acknowledge the growing swell of super-powered beings among us. The so-called mutant problem is just one of many facets of this.

"Are mutants dangerous? Certainly they are. But I defy you to show me any human who is not dangerous under the right circumstances. No, the problem that mutants and other super-humans present is that most typical police forces are not equipped to police them. To that end, we have decided to reactivate the Avengers Initiative…"

At this point McKenna caught Fury's eye in the crowd and nodded to him. Fury was standing there in his blue SHIELD uniform. At Fury's side stood Leah Romanoff, codename Black Widow, a SHIELD agent and a Russian slayer who served as the director of SHIELD's primary bodyguard. Fury's own sister-in-law had been added to McKenna's Secret Service detail after the fiasco with Wagner.

"This Initiative was originally activated to deal with foreign super-powered threats. However, these new Avengers will be on call to deal with all threats of this type, both foreign and domestic. I have called this press conference so that I might present them to you."

A distant rumble, like thunder, started up when people looked up to see a towering brunette, walking up to the dais. A few screams echoed out, but most people took note of the president's sheer calm. If there was one Avenger he trusted absolutely, it was Fury's wife. "Allow to present… Stature!"

Mrs. Dawn Fury presented a beautiful smile to the crowd, despite the domino mask she wore, and then shrank down to normal size next to the president. She was clothed primarily in red and black.

McKenna felt a soft tap on his shoulder. "The Invisible Woman!"

With that introduction, Special Agent Marcie Ross faded back into existence next to the president, her deep blue bodysuit getting a fair few appreciative looks from the crowd.

The lolloping strides of the werewolf were soon noticed as he made his way to the dais. "Wolfsbane!"

Wolfsbane skidded to a stop next to Stature, before transforming back into the human form of Daniel Osbourne, clad in white and forest green.

Red electrical discharges began to form, signalling the arrival of the fourth Avenger from Rio. "Scarlet Witch!"

The discharges gave way to Willow Rosenberg, wearing a costume that was far more risque then Willow would have ever considered in her youth. Given the confident smile she wore, she was apparently much more comfortable with her appearance.

"And finally, no team is complete without leadership. I'm afraid it has been much too long since this country has been blessed with the presence of Captain America."

The president stepped aside, allowing a person few people would have recognised as Graham Miller to take his place at the dais. Graham was taller and more muscular then he had been before, but mostly it was the red, white and blue costume that kept people guessing. He bore the shield with a great deal of apparent pride. "Thank you, Mr. President." He held out his arms to indicate his companions. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Avengers…"

* * *

And here is August 4th's entry

_Jasper_


	10. Jurassic Zeppo (BtVS & Jurassic Park)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series or Jurassic Park. They belong to Joss Whedon and Michael Crichton respectively. I also don't own NCIS. It belongs to Donald Bellisario.

This takes place Post Chosen and Not Fade Away. It takes place close to the beginning of Jurassic Park. It combines elements of the film and book, though the film is the primary source material.

* * *

**_Jurassic Zeppo_**

_When Alexis Murphy is called as a slayer, Xander Harris is sent to begin her training. It is fate that places her on Isla Nublar at the time Xander is sent to join her. Itès just Xander's luck that Jurassic Park begins having a meltdown shortly after his arrival on the island._

* * *

**_Office of John R. Hammond,_** **_Isla Nublar_**

**_July 13_****_th_****_ 2010_**

John Hammond was not a man who was easily rattled. He had been in business for a lot of years and in that time he had seen a lot. He was a man who had cloned more species of dinosaurs then the average person had even heard of in their lives. Some of the species, Othnielia and Microceratops for example, were not even all that widely known outside of archaeologists and hard-core dinosaur enthusiasts. Unfortunately for him, none of that had prepared him for the idea that his beloved grand-daughter had been called as a slayer.

Slayers, vampires, demons and all of the assorted facts had badly shaken the old man. Still, he could have recovered from that easily enough. Hammond considered the real problem to be Alexis Murphy's new calling. It had not taken Hammond long to start researching what information there was on slayers, and the only thing that all accounts agreed on was that slayers lived fast and died hard. That was not what Hammond wanted for his only granddaughter.

The 'New Council' had explained that things were getting better. They had new training techniques, more slayers, more cooperation between slayers and watchers. It sounded like such an improvement. What a crock. Hammond had commissioned a few carefully picked people to look into these things carefully. The truth was far more believable. They had new training techniques, which were applied by some of the watchers, but not all. There were more slayers, but not always more then one to an area. The cooperation between slayers and watchers varied rather extremely depending on the watcher. As for modern technology, which had never been mentioned, very few watchers seemed willing to embrace any technology more advanced then a crossbow. It was absurd.

John glanced up at the buzzing noise which signaled the presence of his 9:00 appointment. John depressed a button and called out softly. "Come in, Robert."

Stalking grimly into Hammond's office was Robert Muldoon, John's game warden. Muldoon dressed like a cross between Indiana Jones and Crocodile Dundee, a fact that never ceased to to amuse Hammond, though he was restraining his amusement for the moment. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Hammond?"

The older man nodded genially. "Yes, Robert. I wanted your opinion on the various species we have on the island."

The game warden frowned. "It depends on the species, Mr. Hammond. Some of them seem safe enough, but a few are real causes for concern. The fact that the pterosaurs can fly makes them a potential security risk. As for the raptors… Well, I think you know how I feel about them, but I'll repeat it anyway. They should all be destroyed. The loss of Gomez just goes to prove what I've been saying about them all this time…"

Hammond sighed dramatically. "It simply isn't economically viable, Robert. We've put too much money into the raptors as is. Now, I'm willing to discuss more stringent security protocols on the raptors…"

"And better weapons in case one gets loose. With the tyrannosaur, she's more likely to attack a sauropod or something then to bother with the likes of us, but for a velociraptor we're a good-sized meal. And I really think we should get something bigger for the rex too. Just as a precaution if nothing else…"

John nodded reluctantly. He couldn't very well deny that it took a lot to put the beasts down, especially if one hoped to keep them alive. Maybe those taser-guns he'd read about from the Initiative program. They ought to be able to put down a raptor. "I'll look into it, Robert. There was one other thing."

"What's that, Mr. Hammond?"

"In your time in Kenya, did you ever come across a group called the watchers?"

The shifty look on Muldoon's face gave the answer away nicely. "Why do you ask, Mr. Hammond?"

The bearded man smiled genially. "My grand-daughter is twelve, Robert. I'm guessing you know what a twelve-year-old girl might get into that watchers might be interested in."

The shifty look disappeared, replaced with shock. "She's been called?"

Hammond nodded. "Yes, Robert, she has. My problem is I want her to have a watcher I can trust to take proper care of her. I'm pretty sure I can force this group to assign who I ask for, but what I don't know is who to ask for. I was hoping you could recommend someone. I don't trust Donald for this, I'm sure you understand…"

Muldoon sneered mentally. He wouldn't trust Donald Gennaro to wipe his own ass properly. He thanked the fates that John had been intelligent enough to see that. "You want someone who's going to put Lex first, is that about right, sir?"

"Right, Robert. That's it exactly."

The game warden considered things carefully. There was really only one option. There was certainly one man that could be counted on to put Lex first. The trick would be getting him out of Africa in the first place. Still, that was Hammond's problem. "The man you want is Alexander Harris. He's currently based out of their African headquarters in Nairobi. He's very passionate, sir. Just the sort of man you're looking for."

* * *

**_International Watchers' Council, African Headquarters_**

**_Nairobi, Kenya_**

**_July 20_****_th_****_ 2010_**

John Hammond walked in through the front doors, as calm as you please. He had researched this place and his target very carefully before he even entered the continent.

Alexander Harris was a classic white knight, with a mix of some mild chauvinism, fanatical loyalty and a proper appreciation for modern hardware. Essentially the man was everything Hammond was looking for to keep Alexis safe. Unfortunately, his good qualities were going to work against John here. His loyalty would keep Xander, as he was reputedly called, from being willing to abandon his slayers to work for Hammond as Lex's personal watcher.

Luckily for John, he had a wild card in the deck. Harris, despite his unquestioned record, was not in charge of the African headquarters. The problem was that Xander was not willing to play politics. His inability to make nice and rub elbows with the snootier watchers that ran the council meant that he was not considered for the top position. Franky that attitude reminded John of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The NCIS agent had clashed with Hammond once over the death of a Navy sailor at one of Hammond's theme parks. John knew full well that Gibbs' inability to play politics was a key reason he'd never been considered for the top job.

The top job in Africa was occupied by Robin Wood, the type of guy who Harris reputedly hated. Wood was a man who was more concerned with how he looked to the brass then with keeping his girls safe, something that gave Xander an ulcer. Robin's priorities just overall clashed with Xander's. It was a wonderful recipe for Hammond to work with.

John rapped on the door of Deputy Director Wood, confidence in full display. Weakness was not something one should display with these people.

"Come in."

Hammond's lips quirked, imagining how Harris would have slapped his superior for a comment like that. Still, John was not inclined to point out the faults of a man he wanted something from. He was not an idiot. "Director Wood. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. John Hammond."

Wood puffed out a bit at the slight inflation in his rank and did not correct Hammond at all. Robin did hope to be the Director one day. "Dr. Hammond. What a pleasure. Does this mean you're considering allowing your granddaughter to attend the African branch? There is always room for one more at our table…"

John mentally gave himself a point. He had believed his reticence concerning Alexis joining the council would have made the rounds as gossip and apparently it had indeed. "Actually, Director Wood, I was rather hoping Lex could be trained where she is and assigned a personal watcher. She'll be traveling to see me on Isla Nublar quite soon, and I was hoping he could meet her there and begin her training?"

Robin frowned slightly. Hammond knew full well he was ruffling some feathers, but his game plan would win out in the end. "We don't typically assign personal watchers to anyone who hasn't at least gone through training, Mr. Hammond."

Hammond ignored the slight of his ignored title. His task was to get Wood on his side, not to antagonise the man by quibbling over little things. "I realise that, Mr. Wood, and I'd be more then willing to compensate you by helping to fund this little operation."

Wood twitched slightly at that. The Watchers' Council was fairly well off, but they spent a lot of money on caring for the girls and equipment and all of that new training they bragged so proudly about. On top of that, much of the council's funds had gone missing in the destruction of the old regime and had still not been recover. More and more they had been relying on charitable donations and Africa was not a popular subject of donations. Most of the wealthy parents of slayers lived in North America, Europe and Asia. "Which watcher were you interested in, exactly?"

John grinned slightly. "Alexander Harris. He was strongly recommended by an employee of mine."

Hammond quickly saw a war break out on Robin's face. On the one hand, Robin wanted what Hammond would contribute. On the other hand, he'd be sacrificing his most popular watcher, at least as far as the slayers were concerned. On the original hand, he'd be getting rid of the primary thorn in his side. On the other hand, he'd be acknowledging Harris' talents, if only to Hammond. "I'll inform Mr. Harris of his new assignment when he returns from Uganda."

John nodded his acceptance. "You can expect my donation as soon as Mr. Harris sets foot on Isla Nublar. Shall we say a million?"

Wood stood up abruptly as the number registered. "That'll be fine. I'll see that he gets there as soon as possible."

John just smiled. Bureaucrats were so easy. He was just happy to leave Robin with the job of getting Harris to the island. He rightly imagined the man wouldn't be happy.

* * *

**_San José, Costa Rica_**

**_August 1_****_st_****_ 2010_**

John Hammond walked calmly up to the helicopter, praying that this was the right play. Gennaro wasn't giving him much of a choice though. "We'll be leaving in just a few moments. We still have a few more passengers we're waiting on before we can go on."

Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler nodded in acknowledgement, looking rather unenthusiastic. Getting the two of them to come had been expensive, but they were quite arguably the best choices available. John still wasn't sure what use a mathematician would be.

Moments later Hammond glanced up to see two more of their party coming. "Ah. Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler, might I introduce Mr. Gennaro and Dr. Malcolm. Mr. Gennaro represents my investors and Dr. Malcolm is a mathematician…"

"A chaotician, actually…"

Hammond cut Ian off quickly. "Yes, yes. A chaotician, then. Let's all sit down, shall we? We just have one more coming."

Gennaro looked up at that. "Another person, John? I thought there were just the three consultants."

John raised his hands in a placating. "Our fourth represents an international organisation that specialises in keeping people safe. He's going to be acting as an instructor for my granddaughter quite soon and I thought his opinion would be of some value as well."

Donald seemed placated by that. He had wanted to get someone there to look at things from a health and safety standpoint, but Malcolm had been the closest Hammond had allowed until now. This fourth person could be exactly what he was hoping for.

They were waiting only a few more moments when Ellie let loose a faint gasp which caused them all to turn. There at the doorway of their craft stood Xander Harris. The lad was quite the sight with his military pants and duffel bag, his canvas shirt and the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing. Still, his most startling feature remained the missing eye. Hammond was quite sure he'd have been shocked too if he hadn't known what to expect.

After a long moment of letting the group stare at him, Xander finally broke the silence. "Hello there, Dr. Hammond. I believe you and Wood agreed I'd meet you here." There was a faint hint of dislike in the man's voice, but John wasn't sure if it was for him or Wood. Ah well, the lad was meant to protect Alexis, not Hammond himself.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Harris. Or may I call you Xander?"

The man frowned a bit at the familiarity. "Xander's okay, I suppose." He then turned to the archaeologists and the mathematician as if Hammond had ceased to exist. "I'm Xander Harris." The others smiled genially.

"Doctor Alan Grant, paleontology."

"Doctor Ellie Sattler, paleobotany."

"Doctor Ian Malcolm, chaotician."

An eyebrow raised. "Chaos theory, eh? An old friend of mine one called me the living embodiment of the butterfly flapping its wings…"

Malcolm snorted. "That's an interesting point of view. I'd love to hear why he came to think that…"

"She, actually. As for why, I have a tendency to do seemingly inconsequential things that have bigger consequences then most could imagine."

Tired of being ignored, Gennaro stepped in. "Donald Gennaro, representing Mr. Hammond's investors."

A cool look appeared in Xander's eye, causing Hammond to back away in shock. "Gennaro you say? Of Wolfram and Hart?"

The lawyer was thrown off guard. "Why yes? How did you know that?"

Xander's lip curled into a snarl. "Your firm has quite a reputation, Mr. Gennaro. I met briefly with Lindsey McDonald when he was reassigned to Wolfram and Hart Cairo. Let's just say I made it a point to keep track of your people after that experience."

Sensing the uncomfortable amount of hatred that seemed to rapidly be growing, Sattler attempted to diffuse the situation. "Dr. Hammond mentioned you're going to be instructing his granddaughter. In what, exactly?"

Xander turned a bright smile on Ellie. "Survivalism and self-defence. Some of it standard and some of it very much non-standard. I come highly recommended, or so I hear…"

* * *

Happy birthday to me... And here is my August 15th entry.

I would not be disappointed to see a Xander/Ellie 'ship here.

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll all be yours.

Jasper


	11. An American Scooby (BtVS & Hellsing)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Hellsing. They belong to Joss Whedon and Kouta Hirano respectively.

Warning: Some of the things said are not kind to Buffy. They are the opinions of the characters involved and do not necessarily reflect the worth of Buffy Summers.

* * *

_**An American Scooby in London**_

_Sunnydale Memorial Hospital_

_Sunnydale, California_

_March 3__rd__ 1998_

"You're going to die, and I'm going to be there." The moment was truly delicious. He could smell the fear coming off the boy just as surely as Angelus could, but he could also smell something else… Determination, will, intent… That trio were difficult emotions to cultivate and the boy had all three in spades. Yes, he was very impressed.

The leech slapped a bouquet of flowers into Xander's arms. "Tell her I stopped by."

Alucard sneered as he watched Angelus leave. Normally he'd just end the insect with one bullet, but he couldn't help but watch instead. Not that Angelus was anything special. No, it was Harris that intrigued him so. "Well done."

Xander, who hadn't realised he was being watched before, immediately speared Alucard's location with his gaze. "Who are you?"

The No-Life-King offered a death's-head grin before speaking. "Someone who was very interested in your defeat of that leech. Angelus, was it?"

Xander shrugged self-deprecatingly. "That wasn't a defeat. That was me bluffing him."

The Transylvanian laughed mockingly. "My boy, I have been in wars long before you were crawling. Allow me to assure you that the lines of victory and defeat are rarely cut and dry. Also keep in mind that not all battles have bloodshed, though the best ones do. What you had there was a battle of wills, and yours proved the stronger. Take that for what you will…"

Xander stared at the strange man for a long moment before responding again. "Who are you?"

"No one of consequence, my young friend. I have a boss who might be interested in a man of your talents. I don't think you are ready to accept her offer. When you are, I will return. Then, I believe, we shall talk again…"

* * *

_Sunnydale High School_

_Sunnydale, California_

_January 26__th__ 1999_

"I like the quiet." Oh the chill in the air when the boy said that had been delicious. Staring down a zombie over a ticking bomb, knowing all the while that you could be blown to kingdom come at any moment.

Alucard grinned maniacally as he watched the zombie lose his nerve to a supposed lesser mortal and disconnect the bomb.

"I don't want to see you around school anymore, Jack."

Alucard watched the zombie running and telekinetically freed the werewolf. No reason to let that sort of trash escape while he talked with the boy. "Very impressive, Alexander. My master would have been impressed, I think."

Xander locked eyes with the strange being for a long moment and then attack, an attack that Alucared slapped aside almost carelessly. "Oh come now, Xander. There's no need to kill yourself. I am here only for you, not your so-called friends."

Xander's glare was fierce. "I will not become a vampire, sir. Of any breed, soul or none. I swore on the grave of a man who was all but my brother that I would end the vampire scourge, not join them."

Alucard allowed an almost fatherly smile to cross his face. "I have no wish to make you a vampire, Alexander. As a human, you could grow to be a fierce opponent. As a vampire, especially of my kind, you could grow into an opponent that is far more terrible then even I. No, better that you serve my master then you serve me."

The quirk of Xander's brow suggested a confusion that his words soon clarified. "And who is your master, mideon?"

Alucard's lips quirked in a faint smile. The boy wasn't a researcher by nature, but when called upon he was apparently quite capable of doing the job. "My master is Sir Integra Hellsing, of the Hellsing Organisation. I have served the Hellsing family for generations, ever since my battle with Abraham."

Recognising the name Abraham, Xander frowned. "Dracula…"

"Alucard, if you please. That is my name now. It has been many, many moons since I have answered to any other."

"What does your master want with me?"

"At the moment? Nothing. I have not told her of you, as yet. But I will. You have within you the potential to be a great warrior. You lack training and polish, but you possess the intangibles already, things that are far more difficult to train a person in."

"What about Buffy, or Faith?"

"What about them? Do you honestly think this 'Buffy' knows the first thing about combat? Slayers are children, given powers they can scarcely comprehend, and pointed at vampires by a group of cowardly old men with little more then a wooden stake to protect her. Slayers are little better then fledglings, they carry little experience. This Buffy is even worse then the average. She has no drive to become more then she is. She wants to curl up in a hole and be normal. Normal? Bah! A cheerful ideal of the weak-minded. Nothing more."

Xander couldn't help but silently agree with the statement, even as the tiny fragment of his soul that was still attracted to Buffy rebelled at the idea. "What do you want from me?"

Alucard smirked. "When the school year ends you plan to go on a road trip. Invest in a plane ticket to England instead. Come to Hellsing and present yourself to Sir Integra. I believe you will come to benefit."

Xander nodded slowly. "I'll consider it."

Alucard bobbed his head and spun on his heel, grinning like a loon. He wondered silently if Xander would ever realise that Alucard himself was behind 'the fluke'. The Chase girl hadn't been appropriate for Alexander. Nay. Alucard had someone much more appropriate in mind. Still, he doubted it would still Xander's rage if he ever realised how he had been manipulated…

* * *

_Heathrow International Airport_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

It had been months since Xander's last encounter with Alucard, but he still couldn't get what the vamp had said to him out of his head. 'You have within you the potential to be a great warrior'.

The sad fact was that Xander had never had anyone give him that kind of encouragement before. His parents had only ever demeaned him. His friends, while not generally demeaning, had never really gone so far as to suggest that he might be worthy. And that whole fray-adjacent thing had really not helped at all. In many ways Cordy was the worst of it, though Xander didn't think she meant it badly, at least not until 'the fluke'. Dweeb boy, Dork, Geek boy, Zeppo… All of those names cut into his self esteem like a knife.

Ironically it always seemed to be the enemy that appeared to respect him. Angelus had been the first. It was ironic that the evil vampire's snide remark about Xander being Buffy's white knight had actually made Xander more confident in himself. Alucard was not precisely an enemy, but he was of the same origins and he had once been THE enemy. It certainly put the vampire's comment in a weird sort of perspective.

Xander moved up to the luggage carousel and lifted a U.S. Army duffel, that he'd bought at a surplus store, over his shoulder. The ticket to England had been pricey at over a thousand dollars, but he'd managed to scrape up the money. Now he just had to find Hellsing Manor.

* * *

_Hellsing Manor_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

The soft chime of the doorbell alerted Walter to the presence of someone at the door. Mindful of his duties as Sir Integra's butler, Walter walked up and answered it. Walter had been the butler and armourer or Hellsing Manor for many years and a veteran member of Hellsing's forces before that. It was a very rare thing for him to be surprised by someone. Today was the exception.

Standing at the door, calm as you please was a man wearing American military fatigues from the waist down. The young man's upper body was covered in a OD green t-shirt and a brown, leather bomber jacket. He bore a military duffel on one shoulder and had a stake and a jackknife concealed on his body. Still, it wasn't the manner of dress that unsettled Walter. It was the pure, unadulterated calm that the young man wore like a cloak. People visiting Hellsing were rarely calm. "Can I help you?"

The calm look gave way to a quirky, oh-so-Californian grin. "Yeah, I had a visit a few months ago from an agent of yours. He mentioned that his master might be looking for new recruits. He strongly suggested that I volunteer. Given what little I know about the nightlife, I thought he might be on the right track, so to speak."

Walter didn't know what to think. The sheer and utter recklessness of flying halfway around the world on the word of a vampire simply astounded him. After all, from the sound of things it was Alucard who had extended the invitation. "Did it not occur to you to call first, young man?"

Xander shrugged as if it didn't matter to him at all. "If Sir Hellsing is not interested in my services, I'm sure I can find something else to do in London. I just figured that an organisation that knows about the real world might have a use for me. I'll be going." Xander couldn't help but silently berate himself for not thinking things through better. He's had over six months, after all. He should know by now how much worth there was in the word of a vampire.

"Wait a moment, please." The words were out of his mouth almost before Walter had realised it. Perhaps there was the slightest hint of kinship he could feel for the boy. "Where are you from, lad?"

Xander stood still for a long moment before he turned about and locked eyes with Walter. "La Boca del Infierno, California."

Walter's spine stiffened at the name. The Hellmouth. Perhaps Agent Alucard had been on to something. "Come in, please. I'll see if Sir Integra is busy."

* * *

_Integra's Office, Hellsing Manor_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

"Sir Integra?"

The commander of the Royal Protestant Knights glanced up from her day's paperwork to lock gazes with her faithful family servant, Walter. "Yes, Walter?"

Walter appeared to hesitate for a moment, a very odd expression on the older gentleman. "I was wondering if you had time to meet with a perspective new recruit."

Integra's brow arched in curiosity. "I wasn't aware that we had any new recruits scheduled for today."

"We do not, Sir Integra. The young man in question is from far outside our usual… labour pool."

Integra's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is he at least a professional soldier?"

Walter definitely looked a touch chagrined at that. "I'm afraid not, but…"

"Then why are we even wasting our time with him?"

"He's from the hellmouth."

Integra paused for a long moment. "Intriguing, but hardly that inspiring, Walter. The hellmouth tends to attract the lesser breeds. We tend to hunt more difficult game…"

"He comes highly recommended…"

"Exactly how highly?"

"Agent Alucard was the one who suggested he seek us out."

That was intriguing. Alucard, while prone to strange pranks and capers by times, was not one to go for something as elaborate as misleading someone into a journey to another continent just for his amusement. "Send him in."

"He's just outside. I'll…"

"I meant Alucard, Walter. Send in Alucard. I wish to talk with him. In the meantime, keep this American company, would you?"

Walter nodded. "As you say, Sir Integra."

* * *

_Training Room 23, Hellsing Manor_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

Walter walked along with Xander, side by side, as the former gave the latter the nickel tour. Walter had decided that Integra's request to keep Xander company might be interpreted as a request to give the lad a tour of the facilities. Besides which, Walter just wanted to see what the lad could do.

The firing range had been a real eye-opener. The lad was either a natural marksman or he already had a fair bit of experience under his belt. He'd proven quite capable with most of the pistols and even showed proficiency with various larger firearms, most notably the MP-5. His accuracy was not at Sir Integra's level, or even Walter's own, but he was still impressive, especially for someone who was fairly uninitiated.

Walter removed his jacket, his vest and his tie and placed them aside before turning to the younger man. "I thought we'd try hand-to-hand now. Prepare yourself."

Xander offered that irritating grin and tossed his bag aside, laying his stake and knife on top of it, followed by his leather jacket. "Okay, Wally. Let's try this, shall we?"

Walter nodded and then moved with a speed that bordered on freakish to anyone who was unused to supernaturally speedy opponents.

* * *

_Integra's Office, Hellsing Manor_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

"You bellowed, my Master?"

Integra pierced her primary attack dog with a cold glare. "Who is he to you?"

"Who is who, Master?"

"You know damn well who, Alucard! This American, Alexander Harris. Who is he to you, you damnable vampire?"

The vampire in question smirked smugly. "He is as you are, my Master. He is one of the few interesting humans in existence. You can trust me when I say that he is precisely what you need."

Integra considered the vampire's point, completely missing the hidden double meaning in Alucard's words. She eventually reached the conclusion that she should give the vampire's words some consideration. "Do you know where Walter took him?"

Alucard's smug smile grew. "The Angel of Death took Alexander on a tour. I believe they are currently inspecting a training room."

This time Integra caught the hidden meaning. "Hand-to-hand combat evaluations? Who is Walter testing him on?"

"The Angel of Death is trying Alexander's skills personally."

Integra's eyes grew round. For Walter to try someone personally was a testimonial to how skilled he felt they were… or how thoroughly they irritated him. "Let's see how they're doing, yes?"

* * *

_Training Room 23, Hellsing Manor_

_London, England_

_June 30__th__ 1999_

Integra was shocked. Alexander Harris was a bloody mess. That wasn't too surprising, given who he was fighting. In fact, it was the fact that Xander was still standing at all that was cause for her shock.

It was immediately obvious that Walter was trying to put the kid down pretty hard now. His typically crisp white shirt was transparent in places from the effort the old man had been putting in.

Alexander, on the other hand, looked pretty worked over. He was bleeding in a few places, was sweating even more heavily then Walter, despite more appropriate clothing, and had a nasty tear in his t-shirt.

All in all, it was a typical match for the Angel of Death where he wasn't actually trying to kill his opponent. Except of course for the fact that the other man was still standing. Integra was absolutely certain that if this had been a death match, Walter would have won it handily. As it was, Walter was winning anyway. Still, the younger man was definitely interesting. She nodded in satisfaction as she entered the room.

Walter immediately stood straighter. "Sir Integra. Might I introduce Alexander Harris, of La Boca del Infierno."

The younger man stood straight and showed the faintest hint of apparent surprise at seeing her for the first time. "A pleasure, Sir Integra." He extended his hand.

Clasping Xander's hand in a firm grip, she was mildly shocked when he didn't attempt to squeeze her hand in some macho attempt to prove himself her better. "You thought I'd be a man?" She asked, not allowing a hint of judgment to enter her voice.

An immature grin crossed his features. "Actually, your name suggested you might be a woman. I was actually more surprised to find that you're so young."

A quirk of her eyebrow was all she allowed him to see of her reaction. "You are even younger then I am, are you not?"

Xander offered her a guileless shrug. "True, but I'm applying to be recruited into your organisation, not to lead it. I'm not questioning your capabilities, Sir Integra. I'm merely surprised that you are as young as you are."

Integra stared long and hard at the man before deciding that he had genuinely meant no offence by his statements. Instead of replying further, she turned to Walter. "Arrange accommodations for Mr. Harris in the troop barracks and speak to the right people about extending him a work visa." She then turned back briefly to the American. "Welcome to Hellsing, Mr. Harris."

As Integra strode away, Alucard grinned maniacally. Oh yes, this was going very well…

* * *

The idea here is that Alucard is trying to set Integra up with someone he considers appropriate for her. He has chosen Xander. Will the prospective lovers agree? Will the people Integra answers to? Will Cordelia, if she ever learns of Alucard's interference? You decide.

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via reviews.

Jasper


	12. What Makes Us Mighty (BtVS & Firefly)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Firefly. They belong to Joss Whedon.

AN: Some of the early lines are from the Firefly Episode: Serenity

* * *

**What Makes Us Mighty**

When Xander adds a little something to his Halloween soldier costume, he quickly finds himself trapped in someone else's life. His only hope? Doing what he does best… survive.

_October 31__st__ 1997  
Ethan's Costume Shop_

"You're sure about this, now?"

Ethan smiled at the young man across from him. "Trust me, young man. That brown overcoat will give your soldier's garb an exotic and different feel from the average no-necked thug in uniform."

Xander ignored the proprietor's apparent bias against soldiers and thought about the statement. The coat would definitely give him a slightly different look. He nodded his satisfaction. "Yeah, okay. This and the battle rifle then."

Ethan's smile lit the store. "You won't regret this, my boy. That'll be ten dollars."

Xander winced as he paid up. He only hoped the higher cost was all that he regretted concerning this purchase.

* * *

_May 24__th__ 2511  
Serenity Valley, Hera_

"Just focus!" The shouted words jolted Xander out of his shock at suddenly appearing in a war zone, one far away from the one in Sunnydale that he was used to.

Not noticing that one of his men wasn't who he had been a few moments ago, the Sergeant continued his little pep talk. "The Alliance said they were gonna waltz through Serenity Valley and we choked them with those words. We've done the impossible and that makes us mighty. Just a little while longer… Our Angels are going to be soaring overhead raining fire on those arrogant Khangs so you hold… You hold!"

The speech the sergeant gave really cut through Xander like a knife stabbing at his heart. We've done the impossible and that makes us mighty. These people were like him. He too had done the impossible once, when he brought Buffy back to life and defied a prophecy. He hadn't felt mighty at the time, but now he did.

Xander gripped the battle rifle that was suddenly very real. The sergeant had said to hold and that was what he had to do. He would hold out until he was returned to his own reality. As of now, he just had to pretend he was Private…

"Bendis!"

Xander jolted back to reality. "Ma'am?"

The dark-skinned woman sighed. "It's Corporal, Private. Are you with us?"

Xander nodded, feigning the calm of a career soldier. He just had to remember that the other guys were out to kill him, just like vampires. That was how he would think of it. "I'm with you, Corporal. Where do you need me?"

The woman smiled softly. "Cover fire, Private. Get their heads down so Mal and I can deal with that skiff."

Xander grinned winningly at her. "You got it, Corporal. I got your back."

As the corporal and the sergeant started to make their way to the anti-aircraft weapon, Xander started firing with varying success at the enemy troops. His general aim was decent from wielding a crossbow, but he was rather unfamiliar with the weapon. He only hit a few of the people he was aiming at, but he did get their heads down.

Xander watched helplessly as Mal exchanged fire with the skiff and sighed in relief when the enemy ship went down and Mal and the corporal seemed to make it, if just barely.

Seconds later, they were returning to the trench. "Nice cover fire." The bright smile on the corporal's face told him he'd done a better job then was expected.

Xander was rather shocked to find out that Green had been killed. It must have been from a stray bullet that had been aimed at him as he was laying down cover fire. He felt a short twinge of guilt for the death of a man he had never really known, but accepted that he had been trying to protect the sergeant and the corporal. He had succeeded in what he had been assigned and he tried desperately to be content with that.

Mal had apparently sensed this and started a rather absurd speech on how they were too pretty for God to let them die. Xander was tempted to tell Mal that God was perfectly willing to let the pretty people die. He had seen many a pretty young woman die in his high school. Ampata had been pretty. Buffy had been pretty before she died. She was still pretty to look at after she came back too, though she had done a few things Xander considered rather unpretty. Her actions at the start of that year were not forgotten or forgiven by Xander.

"They're not coming." The corporal's, Zoe's, voice cut through his thoughts and seemed to shock Mal too. "Command says its too hot. They're pulling out. We're to lay down arms."

Mal and Xander, hearing the ships flying overhead both glanced out of their trench to see the craft overhead. Mal immediately recognised them as Alliance. Xander immediately recognised them as firing on them. Xander dodged fast, fast as a person who had spent a year fighting vamps can dodge. It was fast enough to save his life. It wasn't fast enough to prevent him from taking a nasty hit in the shoulder.

As Xander started to rapidly lose consciousness from his injury, he heard Zoe saying he would be alright. He also felt the inexplicable pull that he had felt when he switched bodies last time. It looked like he was going home. _Good luck, folks…_

* * *

_October 31__st__ 1997  
1630 Revello Drive_

'This is madness.' Lex Bendis paced back and forth, his weapon clutched tight as he tried to process what had happened to him in the last few hours. He had been on Hera, engaged in bloody hand-to-hand combat with the Alliance when ha and the rest of his platoon had been swept up into Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds' platoon, all the officers above Reynolds were dead. He, Reynolds, Corporal Alleyne and Private Green had been holed up in a trench and he had been certain death was imminent.

And then he was here. Wherever the heck here was… Lex wasn't sure, but he was beginning to think this was hell. There were monsters everywhere, it was dark and it was terrifying. He had been swept up by a girl named Willow who seemed to be a ghost and was being asked to protect a noblewoman named Buffy of all things. Bendis tightened his grip on his weapon some more.

"Somebody help me!" A voice screamed.

Hearing that and thinking of the death of his sister at the hands of Alliance troops, Bendis charged out the door to rescue whoever was screaming. Unfortunately, when confronted with the rather large monster that was chasing the girl in the catsuit, Lex froze. It was huge. It was fearsome. He was screwed.

Lex Bendis' freezing up could not have been more poorly timed. The sasquatch that had been chasing Cordelia decided to turn its aggression on Lex, killing the traumatised soldier almost instantly.

* * *

_Out of Time_

_Out of Place_

"Alexander Bendis arrived ahead of schedule by several hours."

"So? That's fine. The guy was a nothing. A bit character in the great game, at best."

"Janus interfered with matters and its all gone to hell in a hand-basket."

"I take it there is more to it then this Bendis arriving a touch early, then?"

"He died in the wrong body. The body of Alexander Harris."

"… This is very bad. And Alexander Harris?"

"He's in Bendis' body, but the spell that put him there was just broken."

"Is Bendis' body in good condition?"

"Not perfect, but he's expected to survive and have no lasting effects from the damage."

"It'll have to do. Tell Janus that he is forbidden to switch Bendis and Harris back. Bendis' spirit is at rest and cannot be retrieved from there. Harris' spirit is anchored to the mortal realm and cannot be made to depart. That goes outside his purview."

"He's not going to like this."

"I don't care if he likes it. I didn't come here to be liked."

"What about Harris? He's in the wrong body and the wrong reality…"

"This is about balance, my friend. Harris was meant to make some major, positive contributions to his reality. Those contributions were withheld from his reality and so he is given the chance to make them in his new reality, to make up for it…"

"If you say so…"

"I do. Get to work."

* * *

_June 1__st__ 2511  
Alliance Cruiser, Indomitable_

"You are Alexander Bendis, are you not?"

An officer in what Xander had come to recognise as Alliance colours was addressing him. "If you say so…"

The officer seemed unhappy at the non-answer but continued. "You were with the 517th light infantry until you were swept up by Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds, were you not?"

Xander worked damn hard to commit each new bit of information to memory. Every little detail was golden. He needed to keep up his act until he was returned to his reality… If he was ever returned. "I think so. It's all such a blur."

The officer nodded sagely. "That's to be expected, Private. You understand that the Independents have surrendered, yes? Your war is over."

Xander felt numb at that. He had shed blood in this cause and it was all for nothing. Everything for nothing. No. Not for nothing. Mal and… Zoe… were still alive. That had to count for something. "I understand. When can I get out of here?"

The officer pinned Xander with a firm look and seemed to consider for a moment. "You can get out of medical in two more days, Mr. Bendis. As for leaving this cruiser, that will be another week. You can leave with Mr. Reynolds and Miss Alleyne. We'll be dropping them on Persephone."

Xander nodded as if he understood where Persephone was. He considered long and hard and decided to stick with Mal and Zoe if they let him. If not, he'd have to wing it. "Okay…"

* * *

_February12__th__ 2512  
Persephone_

Lex watched as Mal hauled the door of an old mid-bulk transport open. He had been Lex for a while now, after learning that was how Bendis had been called. His almost a year in this new life had done wonders for his understanding of spoken and even written Mandarin. It was times like this that Lex had been glad of the books Giles had them translating back in his old life. The skills he had used to translate things had been of great use to him in piecing together how to talk.

Zoe was currently expressing her vehement dislike for the ship that Mal had bought. Mal was defending himself as best he could. In desperation, Mal turned to Lex, a pleading expression on his face. "Bendis likes it. Don't you Bendis?"

Lex took a long look around the hold. It was dusty, probably couldn't fly yet and was plug ugly. It was worse then his parents' place in looks. But if there was one thing the newly named Lex Bendis had learned in his years living with his parents and his friends, it was that the people made it home, not the place. That was why his house was never a home, but Buffy and Jesse and Willow's places had been. Because he loved the people within. "She's ugly as sin, Sir… But I think we can change that."

Mal nodded. "For that, I'll even give you your name, kid. It's Lex from now on… Unless you lose the privilege."

Zoe shook her head in mild amusement and Lex rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sir…"

* * *

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

Jasper


	13. Cast Adrift (BtVS & Lord of the Rings)

_I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The Lord of the Rings. They belong to Joss Whedon and John Tolkien respectively.  
_

* * *

**_Cast Adrift_**

_When Xander makes the ultimate sacrifice to save Buffy and Dawn, he loses almost everything that he is, was and would have been. Can he find a new life in Middle-Earth? Will he ever ever regain all of who he once was? Will he ever go home again? Will he want to?  
_

* * *

_June 12__th__ 2001_

_Construction Site_

Xander moved swiftly to the platform that held Dawn, hoping that Buffy would remain focused on Glory for just a little longer. Spike had failed to keep the portal from opening, and so a person with Dawn's blood was required to close the expanding tear in reality. Xander was determined that the person in question would not be Buffy or Dawn.

Most people dismissed Xander Harris as a fool. The Zeppo. The ordinary guy that stood on the shoulders of giants. The son of the town drunks. The useless one. He had heard them all. They thought him an idiot because of his poor grades. Xander was not an idiot. The monks had said that Buffy had been used to create Dawn. As far as Xander was concerned, that was an incomplete picture. Dawn was too different from Buffy in looks for them to be made from the exact same DNA. Borrowing Dawn's hairbrush had confirmed what he had already suspected. Dawn was his daughter.

Doc squealed like a pig as Xander pumped a clip into the demon. The demon was dangerous, certainly, but he was not immune to the handgun Xander had 'requisitioned' along with the anti-tank weapon so very long ago. Xander dropped the pistol onto the ground and carefully staunched Dawn's wounds. He wouldn't need the weapon where he was going.

Dawn was babbling wildly about needing to sacrifice herself to close the portal. Like hell. "No you don't."

Dawn's lips stopped moving as she tried to process what Xander had just said. "What?"

Xander caressed the side of Dawn's face softly, wiping away her tears. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to stop this. When the monks created you they gave you parents. People of your blood."

Dawn's mouth fell open briefly before she shook her head. "Mom is dead and Dad is God only knows where, Xander."

Xander smiled, his face tinged faintly with sadness. "You weren't created from them, Dawn. As odd as it is, they're your grandparents, not your parents."

Dawn's eyes widened. "You're not going to let Buffy do it, are you? You can't!"

Xander grinned sheepishly. "No, I'm not. Luckily for us, Buffy wasn't the only one whose DNA was borrowed to make you be."

Dawn's eyes practically bulged as she finally understood what Xander was implying. "No, Xander, you can't."

"I can… I am… and I will. Tell Buffy and the rest that I'll miss them. I love you, Dawnie." And with that Xander took a running leap off of the platform.

When the portal cleared up there was no sign of a body. Xander was gone.

* * *

_December 12__th__ 3011 (Third Age)_

_Dimholt, Rohan_

Théodred, son of Théoden and Second Marshal of the Riddermark, grimaced in pain. The cut across his forehead burned fiercely as he slashed his way through the swarm of orcs that had ambushed his éored.

The orcs were getting bolder and bolder these days. Rumour grew of the power of Sauron having been restored in Mordor. The orcs had even managed to snatch numerous black horses from Rohan's own prize stock. Théodred spun and beheaded another of the hated orcs.

The orcs were finally retreating, heading towards Harrowdale and the Paths of the Dead, presumably hoping that the Rohirrim would lack the spirit to follow them into such cursed land. A foolish hope. The band of orcs was killed to the last orc, almost on the doorstep of the Paths of the Dead.

Théodred's eyes narrowed as he beheld the dark door that was the entrance to the Paths of the Dead. He had no interest in trying that road. He remembered the lessons of Baldor the Hapless who disappeared into the Paths of the Dead, never to be seen again. No, Théodred's attention had been captured by the naked human body that was lying across the entrance. "Grimbold."

Théodred's aging second joined him. "Yes, my lord?"

Théodred simply pointed at the body on the ground. "Assist me, if you would?"

Grimbold nodded silently. This was why people respected Théodred, and his cousin Éomer for that matter. They were willing to get their hands dirty, even on a relatively risky venture like treading close to the Paths of the Dead.

The two marshals crept up to the body and were rather shocked to discover that the man was still breathing. He was scraped up, bruised and terribly cold, but he was alive. Théodred's head shot up. "Bring blankets and start a fire… quickly!" Then he proceeded to haul their erstwhile guest away from death's door, so to speak, with the assistance of Grimbold.

* * *

_December 14__th__ 3011 (Third Age)_

_Dimholt, Rohan_

It was two days later that the stranger awoke, he was a little cold and he ached everywhere, but he had awake, which was a great deal better then his rescuers had been expecting.

Théodred sat next to the young man, who was now clothed much more appropriately. The man shivered slightly and then managed to speak. "Who are you? Where are we?"

Théodred considered demanding that his questions be answered first, but the genuine worry in the other man's face held him back. It cost him nothing to introduce himself first. "I am Théodred, son of Théoden. You are currently in the forest of Dimholt, on the borders of the Kingdom of Rohan. And you are?"

The younger man opened his mouth as if to introduce himself, but then seemed to reconsider. The man adopted a truly puzzled expression. "I feel like I should know and yet I do not. How is that possible?"

Théodred frowned deeply. Loss of memory was not unknown to the Rohirrim. More importantly, men of the Riddermark were very adept at sorting truth from lies. The young man before him genuinely did not remember his name. "Do you recall your country? You are too dark of skin to come from Rohan."

While the stranger in question was not as dark as some, the Rohirrim were exceptionally fair of skin, surpassed only by the elves. Likewise, dark hair was very uncommon in Rohan. Only Gríma, son of Galmod, was so dark of hair and his blood was believed to be mixed with the Dunlendings. It wouldn't surprise Théodred one bit to learn that the treacherous little rat was of Dunlending blood. He was already eyeing Théodred's sixteen-year-old cousin Éowyn with far too much interest.

The stranger shrugged. "I haven't a clue. All I remember is waking up here. I have… flashes of battling against monsters with terrible faces, but its all just as if it's in the corner of my eye. I can just catch glimpses of it, but nothing solid."

Théodred sighed heavily. What a dilemma. On the one hand, the man was being totally honest. On the other, the fellow could be just about anyone. All Théodred knew was the man was not Rohirrim. Strangers were not well received in the Riddermark in these darkening days. That left two options. The first was the rather unpalatable option of abandoning a man with no memories to the whims of fate, perhaps pointing him towards Gondor. The other, more difficult option was to put the man under his personal protection.

Théodred chewed his lip. There was really no choice in the matter. He had not just brought this man back to health only to abandon him. "From this day forward, until such time as you recall your true identity, you shall be entering my service. Your name is now Iskander. Grimbold!"

The aging marshal looked up. "Yes, my lord?"

Théodred jerked his head towards Iskander. "See that Iskander is supplied with a sword and a bow. Then see about getting him a horse. I believe we lost Lyre to the orcs. Did his mount survive him?"

Grimbold nodded. "Aye, my lord. The mount survived. I'll see to the lad's weapons. Would you like me to see to training the lad?"

Théodred shook his head. "Nay, Grimbold. You're doing enough. This man is to be in my service and so he is my responsibility. I will train him."

Grimbold offered a half-bow. "As you say."

And thus started the beginning of a new life for Iskander, formerly Xander Harris of Sunnydale…

* * *

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot, drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be yours.

And so we have the August 22nd entry...

Jasper


	14. Always Number Two (BtVS & NCIS)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or NCIS. They belong to Joss Whedon and Donald Bellisario respectively. I also don't own James Bond. He belongs to Ian Fleming

* * *

**_Always Number Two_**

Jenny Shepherd is a woman with a vendetta. She'll do just about anything to get to La Grenouille. And she'll go through Jeanne Benoit, Trent Kort and a man known as Number Two to do so...

* * *

_July 30th 2006_

_NCIS Headquarters_

_Washington DC_

Jenny Shepherd was sitting in the dark, staring at a picture of the man she hated above all others. Things had changed recently and she would have to change with them.

Gibbs had retired. Not that she could blame him under the circumstances, but his absence left his team one short and headless. She would have to deal with that.

First she had to rebuild her MCRT from the ground up. Paula Cassidy would do for a leader, she expected. She'd back Cassidy up with Rick Hall, Jim Nelson and Michelle Lee. They ought to be able to handle the job more than adequately. Granted that Abby Sciuto and Ducky Mallard would likely be angry, but she would handle that as it came. Jenny had something else in mind for Gibbs' former team. She smirked at the picture on the screen.

The door to MTAC opened, but Jenny didn't even look up. She knew who had entered her sanctuary. She had called them in herself after all. "Sit down people."

Tony DiNozzo, Ziva David and Tim McGee sat themselves around her comfortably, waiting for their briefing to begin.

Jenny smirked. It was good to be the queen. "Does any of you recognise the man on the screen?"

Unsurprisingly none but Ziva did. "La Grenouille. He is an arms dealer, yes?"

Jenny nodded with satisfaction. "Yes he is. He is also the eventual target of the operation you three are going to be working. La Grenouille is a French national by the name of René Benoit. He is, as Ziva stated, a high level arms dealer. What Ziva may not know is that La Grenouille is one of the world's most successful arms dealers. I want him out of commission permanently. To that end, you three will be going on assignment on a deep cover op.

Here DiNozzo began to look a touch uneasy. "Ummm… Ma'am, what about our regular jobs? This op sounds pretty time consuming. We can't possibly act as you Major Case Response Team and conduct a deep cover op at the same time…"

"I'm well aware of the DiNozzo. That's why I'm putting Cassidy in charge of a new MCRT whilst your team is on extended assignment. Your jobs at NCIS are intact. You've just been reassigned for the time being."

Jenny waited a long moment, watching as the team chewed on that. They weren't happy with it, especially DiNozzo and McGee, but they seemed to accept it. Finally DiNozzo nodded slightly. "Okay, Ma'am. What are the specifics?"

Jenny smiled broadly. She'd known she could count on Gibbs' team, even without Gibbs to guide them anymore. She snapped the controller and the display shifted to display a beautiful woman. "This is Dr. Jeanne Benoit. She's twenty-four and has recently graduated Harvard Med. She currently works at Monroe University Hospital, right here in DC. Most importantly, she is La Grenouille's daughter. She recently broke up with a police officer that cheated on her…

"McGee, she's your assignment. Your official identity will be Timothy McMurphy, a computer systems technician. Benoit has been looking to get her computer systems completely redone. It'll take time. Use it wisely, McGee. Get into her confidence, make her your friend at the very least. Do what you have to. If you can get close to her then you can get close to her father through her."

McGee looked decidedly nervous at the assignment. Everyone in the room knew he was essentially being asked to seduce the woman. "Err, Ma'am, wouldn't Tony be the better choice for this assignment."

"I've got to agree with the Probie on this one. I mean…"

"It's you, McGee. DiNozzo is too similar to the metro cop she just dumped. I don't want to use someone she's likely to paint with the same brush. Just be as genuine as you can be. She'll respond to that."

McGee nodded uncertainly. "All right."

Jenny tapped the controller again and a man appeared on screen. "This man is called Trent Kort. It's an alias. I'm not sure what his real name is. He's one of La Grenouille's big players. DiNozzo, he's your assignment."

"I don't know how to tell you this, Boss, but he's very much not my type."

Jenny shot him a glare. "I doubt very much if you're his either, DiNozzo. Your job is to look like a lowlife sleaze that's looking to get into the arms dealing trade big time. We're resurrecting your Gus Bricker identity for this op and fleshing it out some. Gibbs tells me you are very convincing lowlife thug."

DiNozzo nodded faintly, slightly disappointed that he didn't have McGee's assignment. He did, however, enjoy playing the thug. "On it, Boss."

Again Jenny tapped the control. The picture that appeared on screen was of a distinguished looking man in a grey suit. The black eye-patch really made him stick out. "This one's yours, Ziva. Meet Alexander Harris. In the arms community he's known as Number Two and in La Grenouille's organisation that is his function."

"Very James Bond." Was DiNozzo's response in a Connery-esque accent.

"Laugh all you want, Agent DiNozzo. I'm told that eye-patch is real enough. Harris apparently had his eye gouged out at the age of twenty-two. Suspicion is that it was an arms deal gone bad. Harris has a long and checkered history:

"He did his first arms deal at age sixteen, acquiring a rocket launcher from a military base that was used to shoot up a local mall."

Tony and the team stiffened in shock.

"It gets better. The next year this youth upgraded to explosives. He was involved in acquiring explosives that were involved in two separate attempts to blow up the local high school. One of these attempts was successful and killed the local mayor, numerous school officials and several graduating students.

"He kept a low profile for the next few years, but we have confirmation that he was involved in a break-in at a covert military installation. It's unknown what, if anything, Harris took away from there, but there is some speculation that it was used to turn Sunnydale into a hole in the ground. Certainly Harris was one of the last ones out when it went down.

"Harris has since joined La Grenouille and moved rapidly to the position of being second in command of this arms dealing empire. He currently focuses on smuggling arms to certain local militia groups across the planet. He has an office in DC at the moment."

Jenny turned back to Ziva. "Your assignment is similar to McGee's. Become close to Harris. Become his friend, his confidant and even his lover if you think you can handle it. Get close to Number Two and he shall lead us to Number One."

DiNozzo's smirking voice broke in again. "I don't suppose that La Grenouille has a white cat?" DiNozzo's smirk melted under Jenny's hot glare. "Sorry Boss. Shutting up."

Ziva nodded slightly, staring at the pictured man and committing his face to her memory. "I'll do it, Director…"

Jenny smiled. "Your alias will be Sarah Davidson. Good luck, Officer David."

* * *

A rather different look at Xander Harris through the eyes of an obsessed woman... ;)

Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot, just drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be yours.

Jasper


	15. Conspiracy Theory (BtVS & Bones)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Bones. They belong to Joss Whedon and Hart Hanson respectively.

* * *

**_Conspiracy Theory_**

When Jack Hodgins he has a son, Jack is quickly on his guard. When he discovers that his son is abused, he is furious. When he discovers his son lives in one of the dealiest conspiracies in human history, he is terrified.

* * *

_Hodgins Residence_

_November 9__th__ 2005_

Jack Hodgins stared at the letter in his hands with a certain detached level of horror echoing through his body. Jessica Lavelle was dead. He'd actually cared a great deal for Jessica, once upon a time. She was the first love of his life. Hodgins winced mentally, wishing silently that he'd married her after they'd graduated from high school. He'd gone to college and she'd promised to wait. She hadn't.

Jessica had left their love behind without so much as a goodbye. Jack hadn't even known where she'd gone until now. Apparently it was Sunnydale, California. Hodgins didn't want to imagine what had happened that had driven her clear across the country. Personally he suspected it was something he'd done. Goodness knew he was… abrasive at the best of times. He sighed softly. At least he hadn't been murderous, though. Apparently his Jessie was a real sucker for punishment and Jack's abrasive attitude just hadn't cut it.

Still, that wasn't what filled Jack with horror. That merely filled him with melancholy. There was, after all, a reason he'd gotten the letter he had. No, the letter concerned Jessica's son, a son whose birth could only have involved one man… himself. Jack sighed. Jessie had been pregnant when she'd left him. Pregnant with a son. One half of Jack was horrified that he'd had a child and hadn't even known it. He'd only been eighteen at the time, for heaven's sake.

Still a son was something Jack could live with. If only the kid hadn't been born in Sunnydale. Oh the horror, the utter horror. Jack's only child, his flesh and blood, was living smack dab in the middle of one the darkest and most deadly conspiracies known to man. Jack's jaw locked in a stubborn expression that had become his hallmark. He had to see Goodman. Now.

* * *

_Jeffersonian Institute_

_November 10__th__ 2005_

Daniel Goodman offered up a long-suffering expression as he watched Dr. Jack Hodgins approach his office. Credit where credit was due, Goodman respected Hodgins' abilities and the man's desire to blend into the academic environment of the lab rather than hobnob with Jack's social peers. Unfortunately the man's personality was as abrasive as sandpaper and he further seemed to regard Goodman's style with an almost instinctive distrust. Goodman was inclined to ascribe this attitude to Hodgins' general distrust of anyone in authority. Still, Daniel couldn't rightly imagine why Hodgins was seeking him out willingly.

Dr. Goodman stood as Hodgins entered his office, using his intimidating size and demeanour to its full effect in an attempt to shorten a, no doubt, onerous meeting. "And what can I do for you this fine morning, Dr. Hodgins?" Goodman allowed no sign of irritation to cross his face, pasting his best politician smile in place.

Hodgins barely acknowledged hearing the greeting. "I need to take a leave of absence. One or two days should be enough, but I need it immediately."

Daniel arched a brow in faint irritation. This was very out of character for Hodgins. The man was demanding, certainly, but he rarely demanded special favours like this. "I realise you are one of this institution's largest donors, Dr. Hodgins, but I do not appreciate being put in this position by someone in my employ, regardless of their generosity."

Jack actually blinked in shock, seeming to understand that he had given a rather ugly impression of himself, before he immediately returned to his demanding expression. "I don't care how much I donate to this place, Doctor. I suppose I am asking for a special favour, but I think it's one you'd grant to anyone in your employ."

Goodman could not fail to conceal some small modicum of surprise. "Oh? And why do you need this sudden leave of yours?"

Hodgins was silent for a long moment, obviously reluctant to bring it up. Finally he gave in. "I've just come into the knowledge that I have a son. His mother just died, his stepfather was responsible and he's headed for foster care if I don't take custody. That's not going to happen."

Goodman carefully swallowed his shock at this revelation. It was true that Hodgins was a known ladies' man, but he'd thought Hodgins was slightly more careful then that. "I can certainly understand your reasoning and heartily approve, but surely this could wait until the weekend? We have a rather heavy schedule at the moment."

Jack was already shaking his head. "Hell no. My kid is not spending one more minute in that hellhole of a town than absolutely necessary, Goodman. Hell, if I could avoid setting foot there myself I would, but someone has to accept custody."

The larger man was rather shocked. "What town does this boy live in?"

Hodgins shook his head, unbelieving that Goodman was so ignorant. "Sunnydale, California…" Nothing. "La Boca del Infierno?"

Goodman was a learned American and a fairly experienced linguist. His knowledge of Spanish was more than sufficient to the task. "The mouth of hell? Oh good heavens, Dr. Hodgins. I have no time for such absurdities."

But it was too late. Jack's eyes already shone with the unholy light they only displayed when he was in full conspiracy theory mode. "Sunnydale is no joke, Goodman. I've seen the statistics for myself. That quaint little hamlet is home to the single largest rate of violent death on the planet. Percentage-wise it tops out countries in the midst of civil war. War! I don't know how much of the stuff on that place to believe but the stats speak for themselves. My kid is coming out of there and he's getting out just as soon as I can get there to sign the papers."

Daniel looked Hodgins over for a long moment, seeking something that would tell him what to do in this very unusual circumstance. Then he saw it in Jack's demeanour. The self-proclaimed 'King of the Lab' was terrified. Usually when he spouted conspiracy theories he was calm, even joyous. This one filled him with fear. "You may have your two days, Doctor Hodgins."

Jack didn't even say acknowledge the permission. He simply rushed out of the office as if he intended to run the distance to Sunnydale. Goodman looked down at a picture of twelve-year-old Alexander Har… Hodgins. Daniel could see the vague indicators of Jack Hodgins' paternity a mile away. The hint of red in the lad's otherwise deep brown hair, the slight curl in the hair, the angular features and, most of all, the eyes. Alexander had his father's eyes, not the colour, but the essence. The lad's eyes cried out with a sharp intelligence combined with a borderline unhealthy cynicism and skepticism.

Goodman nodded in satisfaction. Dr. Hodgins was likely overreacting, but that mattered little. What mattered was that Goodman did not want to be responsible if he was wrong about this. Much better to let Hodgins have his way. At least he'd have a few days without the abrasive man's conspiracy theories…

The thought struck Daniel like a blow to the gut. Hodgins was going to get his son. That meant that he'd have to put up with two Hodgins family members. The large man winced. He definitely had to look into hiring someone to act as head of the Medico-Legal Lab, post haste. Better that poor sap then him…

* * *

Alas poor Goodman...

And here is your August 26th entry.

Anyone who'd like to pick this one up, drop me a line via the reviews.

Jasper


	16. Victoria's Secret (BtVS & Due South)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Due South. They belong to Joss Whedon and Paul Haggis respectively.

* * *

**Victoria's Other Secret  
**

When Xander overhears his so-called mother speaking to his real mother on the phone, he quickly realises that his parents are not who he thought they were. His mother was a criminal with a messy past. His father... His father was a Mountie.

* * *

_June 24__th__ 1999_

_Harris Residence_

"You can't expect us to continue living like this Victoria! He's your responsibility now. I've shouldered it for seventeen years now and it's your turn."

Xander's ears perked up as he heard his mother's somewhat shrill voice yelling into the phone. He had been preparing for his summer road trip for the last hour. Graduation was over and he was ready to leave.

"He's _your_ son, Victoria, not mine. It's not my fault that you spent all that time in prison."

Xander's jaw dropped at the admission. Jessica Harris wasn't his mother? Certainly he had to be the subject of the spirited telephone debate. Xander couldn't decide which was a worse story: that his mother was a bitter drunk or that his mother was a bad enough criminal that she had spent seventeen years in prison.

"Dammit, Victoria, don't you do this to me. My sisterly duty is long since done here. I took care of your little bastard for seventeen years. That's enough…"

Xander winced at the declaration, but presumed that the term might be legitimate, if rather rude. Xander couldn't be sure if he was born in wedlock.

"If you can't take him off my hands, then what about his father?"

Xander perked up again. He had suspected that Tony Harris wasn't his father. After all, if his mother wasn't his real one, then what were the odds that his father was the real one either? Still, that was suspicion and this was confirmation.

"You still haven't told the damned Mountie? And you got the man shot last week? Wonderful, Victoria. Now he'll never take the boy. Yeah. Yeah, well thanks for nothing."

Xander sighed. He'd known for a long time that Tony hated him and that his mother… Jessica didn't care for him. Still, it made him angry to hear her trying to foist him off. And his real mother? Oh what a peach. Spent seventeen years in prison, foisted him off on her sister, never informed Xander's father of Xander's existence and apparently got Xander's father shot last week. Wonderful.

Xander thought for a moment. His mother was worthless, or so it seemed. His apparent aunt and uncle were drunken nobodies who despised him and whom he despised in return. What about his father? His father was a Mountie? His father had been shot. That was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. The way they had spoken of the Mountie suggested that he was still alive.

Xander glanced at his road trip fund. He figured it ought to be enough to get to Canada in a pinch. Yes. He was going to find his father. He was going to find a relative that he could be truly proud to call his own. His road trip was supposed to be a journey of discovery. It was time to make it a good discovery. But first, he needed some help…

* * *

_June 25__th__ 1999_

_Rosenberg Residence_

Willow Rosenberg tapped the buttons on her computer keyboard firmly and smiled with satisfaction. "Okay Xander. Now I need your mother's name."

Xander nodded faintly and offered up a grin. "Let's see. The woman who raised me was Jessica Harris, née Metcalf. That would make my mother Victoria Metcalf."

Willow gave a brief nod and then typed that in. "Have you got anything else?"

Xander thought for a long moment. "She did time in prison. Seventeen years, I think. Plus my dad's a Mountie, which could mean that Mom is Canadian and maybe did her time in Canada. Can't be sure on that though."

Willow chewed on her lip and concentrated on her task of trying to track down Xander's parents. She wormed her way into Canadian criminal databases and finally found a name. "Victoria Metcalf, age thirty-eight. She did seventeen years in a Canadian prison for a laundry list of things that she did as her boyfriend's accomplice."

Xander nodded jerkily. "I take it this accomplice was a Mountie?" He didn't want it to be, but it certainly seemed to be the way his luck was going.

"Nope!" Willow grinned. "But the guy who arrested her was: Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP. He was brand new when this arrest happened, only eighteen. He tracked her through a really terrible snowstorm, kept her alive and then brought her in."

Xander's jaw tightened. "This would have been right around the time I was conceived, right?"

Willow did a bit of quick mental math. "Yes. I think it would be."

Xander's smile was slightly bitter. "I guess Dad did a little more then keep Mom warm on that cold winter's night."

Willow winced. "I guess so."

Xander rubbed his eyes in irritation. As much as he was relieved that his father wasn't the criminal, he was a trifle irritated that his father and mother had barely even known each other. "Can you find him, Wills? Am I gonna need a passport?"

Willow wormed her way deeper into the RCMP database, looking into personnel files. She grinned at what she found. "Good news. You won't need a passport. Your father has been assigned to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago as a Liaison Officer. He's currently undergoing rehabilitative therapy for a gunshot wound that he received while pursuing..."

Xander's eyebrows raised a moment and he remembered what his mother… aunt had said. "Pursuing Victoria Metcalf?"

Willow nodded. "I'm sorry, Xander."

Xander shook his head. "You shouldn't be, Wills. I've got a father, now. He may well be worthy of the name, however sordid his relationship with my mother was."

Willow cracked a faint grin in response. "Chicago, Xander, that's where he is. Your best bet is the Canadian Consulate to start with."

"Thanks Wills." Xander grinned. "I don't suppose you could book me a flight to Chicago?" He held up a wad of cash. "I'll pay you back on the spot."

Willow's smile broadened. "You've got it, Xand."

* * *

_July 1__st__ 1999_

_Canadian Consulate, Chicago_

Xander stared at the Mountie on duty for a long moment before deciding that the man on duty was not the same man as his father. The uniform was right, certainly, but the face was wrong. Xander sighed. He had known it was too easy. "Excuse me, Sir. Do you know where I can find Constable Benton Fraser? I understand he works here."

Nothing. Not even a twitch. Xander poked the Mountie in the chest experimentally. Yep, this guy was a real human. He was not a statue. Perhaps he had simply been concentrating and hadn't head Xander? Xander frowned. It seemed unlikely but it was worth a shot. He waved directly in the guy's face and then repeated his previous question. "Can you tell me where to find Constable Benton Fraser?"

Xander was getting irritated. The guy wasn't moving at all. Then it came to him. He had seen this sort of crap in movies. Those guards in England did this sort of thing. Xander rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Please tell me that your job isn't to stand there day after day like a glorified decoration. That would be really sad. Better still; tell me that this isn't my father's job either. I'm not sure I could prevent myself from laughing at him while he does this."

Still nothing. Xander was just ramping up to slug the guy and see if that loosened the idiot's tongue when a hand patted him on the shoulder. "You're wasting your time kid. He's not gonna move from that position until shift change. Take it from a guy who's seen it."

Xander turned to find himself facing a curly-haired guy with a sardonic grin. "You know this guy?"

The curly-haired guy smirked. "Naw, not this particular guy. I know a different Mountie. I'm Detective Louis Gardino of the Chicago P.D."

Xander was suddenly really glad he hadn't tried assaulting the Mountie for answers. He doubted the detective would have ignored it. "Xander Harris. I'm looking for a particular Mountie. Unfortunately that one isn't the right one and he's about as useful as a speed bump right now."

Gardino chuckled. "I can understand your problem. That Mountie I know has got a real thing for helping people. He might be able to help you out."

Xander nodded in agreement. "Where can I find this guy?"

Louis jerked his chin to indicate the direction he was headed. "The local chapter of the Chicago P.D. The guy you want hangs out with Detective Vecchio. His name's Benton Fraser."

Xander's eyes widened slightly. "Fraser, you say? Well now, that's a pleasant coincidence. That's the exact Mountie I've been looking for."

Gardino grinned. "I guess it's your lucky day, kid. C'mon."

* * *

_July 1__st__ 1999_

_Chicago Police Department_

Ray Vecchio worked his way around his work station, straightening things up. He had agreed to go on vacation with his unofficial partner, Benton Fraser, in order to help his recovering best friend fix up Fraser's father's cabin in Canada. But first he had to get his area in order. "Hey Benny, have you seen the file on the McGriddle case?"

Benton Fraser, of the RCMP, glanced about the chaotic space that was Vecchio's work station. "I believe that it is under your plane ticket, Ray."

Vecchio spun about and spotted his ticket and the battered-looking folder that it was on top of. He grabbed the folder and glanced at it briefly. "McGriddle. Good. Now I just have to get this properly squared away and then maybe Lieutenant Welsh will turn me loose so we can get going northward."

Harding Welsh's booming voice echoed through the busy police station. "Huey, Louie! My office now!"

Detective Jack Huey was halfway to the Lieutenant's office as Gardino, who had just strolled in with some kid complained loudly. "It's Louis, Sir. Louis." Gardino shook his head in apparent exasperation and then turned to the kid at his side. "The guy you want is the one wearing the plaid stuff. He's right next to the guy who's losing his hair."

The kid smiled at Gardino thankfully. "Thanks a lot, Detective."

Vecchio couldn't help but interject. "Yeah, thanks a bunch Louie! And I'll have you know that I've always had this much hair."

The curly-haired cop smirked as he headed into the boss' office. "I'm sorry to hear that."

All Ray could do was growl in irritation.

"Are you Constable Benton Fraser?"

Ray sighed. Great. Benny was about to get another quest in the works and it was going to cut into his vacation time. "Look kid. We're going on vacation. Maybe Gardino can take care of your problem when he gets out of the Lieutenant's office, okay?"

The dark-haired youth shook his. "No. I need to talk to Benton Fraser." The kid turned back to the Mountie in question. "Is that your name?"

The Mountie nodded sagely. "That is my name, son. How can I help you?"

The kid grinned sheepishly. "I don't know if you can, really. My name is Alexander Harris. According to the information I've come across, I'm your son."

Fraser straightened as if he'd been shot again. "Ah. Understood." The sight of the unflappable Benton Fraser fainting dead away would be one that Ray would treasure to his dying day.

* * *

And here is your August 28th entry...

Anyone who'd like to try this one just drop me a line via the reviews.

Jasper


	17. Mummy's Here (BtVS & Harry Potter)

I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.

* * *

**Mummy's Here...**

_Albus Dumbledore is a fool. Leaving a child on a doorstep in the dead of night? Has the man never heard of vampires? Young Harry Potter is discovered on the Dursleys' doorstep by Drusilla the Mad. Guided by the stars and Miss Edith's whispering voice, Drusilla decides to raise the Boy-Who-Lived as her own. Lord have mercy…_

* * *

_#4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England  
November 1st 1981_

"Good luck… Harry Potter." The words of the elderly wizard echoed softly through the night in the rather pathetic village of Little Whinging. Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore's grand schemes, luck was not in force that night. Fate had brought young Harry a most unlikely champion.

An hour after the 'greatest wizard of the age' had left the town, a shadow detached itself from number seven Privet Drive. With silent feet, the figure crept up to the basket holding Harry Potter. A hand slipped in and grasped the letter, sighing in disgust as the letter spoke of the need for the Dursleys to take in their wayward nephew and to care for him as best they could.

The vampire that was known as Drusilla the Mad had come a long way to collect her new precious boy. The stars had spoken their clever whispers in her ears and had guided her footsteps to this point.

The wards that Albus Dumbledore had crafted were ingenious. They were certainly powerful enough to keep any sort of dark creature far away. The only flaw in the wards was that they would not go active until they were activated by Harry's acceptance into the Dursleys' residence. This acceptance was registered simply by bringing the child into the house, something that even the most callous person would likely do if given half a chance. The problem with Dumbledore's plan was that the Dursleys were not awake yet and so they could not complete the ritual before Drusilla got there.

The insane vampire tore apart the letter and tossed the fragments to the four winds. The letter would not be needed. For a brief moment Drusilla considered making a meal of the infant. Luckily, Miss Edith's voice was heeded and Dru took the opposite tactic. She lifted the child from the basket, rocking him gently as he cried from the chill of the night, combined with the chill of Drusilla's flesh.

She continued to rock him, whispering soft assurances to her newest child. "Hush now, my sweet. Mummy's here. Nothing will harm you while Mummy's about. You're going to change the world, sweetie. Miss Edith said so."

Moments later, both mother and child had vanished into the cool November night. The empty basket would be discovered and discarded by the Dursleys the next morning. They would remark on its oddity, but otherwise ignore it. After all, there was nothing of interest inside it…

* * *

_Diagon Alley, London, England  
August 21st 1991_

The youth that entered the Leaky Cauldron did not stand out much from the crowd. After all, a pureblood wizard would think nothing of dressing like a Victorian gentleman. It was practically expected. From his top hat, to his regency tailcoat, to his brushed cotton trousers, the young lad looked every inch the pureblood as he briefly glanced at his silver pocket watch before steering himself out of the Cauldron and into Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands. The lad's black and silver walking stick was held loosely at his side as he entered the small store.

"Well now. And who might you be precisely?" The smooth voice of Garrick Ollivander made the man known. The boy didn't flinch as most did. Instead, his nostrils flared. Was it annoyance, or did the boy have an unusually sensitive sense of smell? Ollivander caught the yellow-green eyes of his customer and had his answer. "Well now. I don't believe that I've ever served one of your kindred, young master. Still, I have never failed to match a person to a wand, and while I have never attempted to match a dhampyr, I have matched many exotic wizards prior to you. Shall we get down to it?"

The dhampyr tipped his hat in respect. "Bravo, Mr. Ollivander. Your reputation for being both perceptive and learned is well-earned. As for my name, I am Marcus Aurelius. My sire is Drusilla Aurelius."

Ollivander's eyes widened faintly before he regained control. Drusilla made a certain level of sense. She was one of the few vampires both quirky and powerful enough to make such a powerful young dhampyr. Dhampyrs were one of the lesser known magical creatures because they were exceedingly rare. A vampire must choose to provide a small measure of their blood over a period of several years to a child. In that time the child must not be drained. The resulting dhampyr depends greatly on the strength of the vampire who sires them. The dhampyr is typically one order of strength lesser than their sire. Drusilla, for example, was a true master vampire and so had sired a dhampyr that was equivalent to a strong minion vampire. Ollivander grasped a wand and presented it. "Maple and phoenix feather, eleven inches…"

Marcus grimaced in pain as he touched the wand and flinched away from it. "I think not, sir."

Ollivander tilted his head in an apology. "Either the extreme light or fire-based nature of the phoenix feather appears to adversely affect you, Mr. Aurelius. I think dragon heartstring's fire-based nature and unicorn hair's light-based nature may have similar effects." Garrick silently cursed himself for an idiot. Dhampyrs might not share the aversion to the sun that their sires did, hence the nickname daywalker, but they were still relatively easily burned and suffered terribly from contact with holy or light objects. The wand maker explored his wands, looking for something more exotic and less likely to react badly. The dhampyr's nature quickly eliminated griffin and salamander wands from contention. Finally Ollivander came upon an intriguing combination. "I wonder…"

The dhampyr perked up slightly. "You have a solution, yes?"

The wand maker smiled. "I believe so, Mr. Aurelius. Ironwood and slayer's blood, willingly granted, twelve inches… The blood comes from Incinii, a Welsh slayer of some repute. She was one of the longest lived in history, or so they say."

Marcus was intrigued and grasped the wand, gasping faintly at the strength of the connection. "There's nothing quite like slayer's blood, according my bother William. I begin to see his point."

Garrick nodded agreeably. "As you say, Mr. Aurelius. As you say."

* * *

_Abandoned Manor House, Newport, Wales  
August 21st 1991_

Drusilla perked up as Marcus re-entered their temporary home in Wales. "Mummy's special boy has returned. How were things in Diagon, Caesar?"

Marcus smirked faintly as he heard William grinding his fangs. William the Bloody had been Drusilla's favoured childe until Marcus had been sired and slowly usurped the role. Spike really resented that, especially when Drusilla called the lad by her little pet name of Caesar. The only position Spike still held over him was that of Drusilla's lover, a position that Marcus had no desire to usurp. "It was fine, Mum. I got the wand you told me about."

Dru smiled down at her favoured childe and caressed his face. "Miss Edith is so pleased with you, Caesar. When you graduate from Hogwart's you will make the Order of Aurelius truly great again.

* * *

AN1: The dhampyr type described is one that I created for this fic. It may or may not be similar to another type of dhampyr. Since there are no dhampyrs in BtVS and HP (except maybe Connor) I am feeling free to invent a type for this fic.

AN2: The name Marcus Aurelius comes from a famous ruler of Ancient Rome. Marcus (who is actually Harry in case anyone doubted it) is merely named for the historical figure He is not the actual historical figure.

AN3: Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.

AN4: And here is my August 30th entry.

_Jasper_


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